The Too Good to Be True Raid
by good4now
Summary: The Rat Patrol is assigned an expert to assist them on a dangerous mission to locate a sample of a deadly virus.  While their path crosses that of Captain Dietrich they find that, for once, Dietrich is the least of all of their worries.  NOW COMPLETE.
1. The Unexpected Expert

Moffitt yawned.

He smiled when Tully repeated the action shortly thereafter.

''Early day of it, isn't it?'' Moffitt looked out to the horizon. It would be hours still before the sun appeared over the dunes.

''Yeah. Too early if you ask me.'' Tully looked with wonder at Hitch who appeared to be sleeping standing up. ''How does he do that?''

Moffitt grinned. He positioned himself in front of Hitch. ''Look alive, soldier!'' Moffitt snapped. He gave Tully a wink.

Hitch's eyes flew open and his spine straightened. ''I'm awake, Sarge!''

''Could've fooled me.'' Tully gave a loud guffaw.

''It is indeed an amazing talent, Hitch, to be able to sleep standing up,'' Moffitt said, still grinning. ''One that I certainly don't possess. I must say, I'm more than a little jealous.''

''Try going to twelve debutante balls in a one season. You'd learn how real quick.'' Hitch looked forlorn at the memory.

''Sleeping through a swarm of pretty young ladies? That hardly seems like you.'' Moffitt considered. ''Though if they were anything like the tea dances that I had to attend as a young man, I do see your point.''

''Yeah,'' Hitch agreed. ''That sounds like it was probably worse. The tea part, especially.'' He made a face at Moffitt.

As he knew that Hitch would be expecting it, Moffitt began winding up to give a proper defense of tea. As he started to utter his tried and true arguments, someone tapped him on the shoulder. Moffitt turned to find that Troy had suddenly appeared behind him. ''Hello, Troy,'' Moffitt said.

''Moffitt, again with the tea?'' Troy narrowed his eyes. ''Spare me the speech, will you? Not only could I practically recite it myself, but it's way too early for it.''

''Never too early for tea,'' Moffitt muttered.

''Never too early for coffee,'' Hitch piped up. ''I could use some coffee.'' He looked at Tully. "Doesn't coffee sound good?''

''Yeah, but only if you're not making it.'' Tully put a matchstick in his mouth.

Hitch sighed and kicked a patch of sand. ''Not my fault no one else ever makes coffee. If I'm so bad at making coffee, why am I the only one that ever makes it?''

Moffitt began to wonder if Hitch had been making bad coffee on purpose just so he didn't have to be bothered with it again. If so, then the boy obviously needed a new plan as it hadn't worked in the six odd months that Moffitt had been assigned to the Rat Patrol.

''Cut it out. All of you.'' Troy pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. ''No one's going to ask me why we're up right now instead of sleeping?''

No one asked and Troy looked as cross as a dragon as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

''All right then. Why are we up at this awful ungodly hour, Troy?'' Moffitt was happy to humor Troy if it meant that he had even a remote chance of getting back to his bunk within a reasonable time.

''Because we just got a new mission.'' Troy pushed his hat farther back on his head revealing hair that was still as untidy as it had been when he'd been roused from bed. ''And a new partner, apparently. Orders from Captain Boggs.''

Moffitt, Hitch, and Tully looked at one another in surprise.

Hitch was the first to recover. ''But Sarge, every time we get someone new, it just kind of slows us down.''

Tully nodded in agreement.

''A special resource for the mission? '' Moffitt thought about the miserable excuse of a safe cracker that they had been saddled with recently. At the very least, Moffitt hoped that this man would be healthier.

''Yeah. Specialist for the mission. An expert. And I'm no happier about it than you guys, but it is what it is, and it's an order.'' As if to emphasize his point, Troy hissed another cloud of smoke.

''Expert, huh? That's just great.'' Hitch's tone made it obvious that he thought that it was anything but. ''Another one?''

To Moffitt, it was obvious that Hitch was also recalling the long line of unfortunates that the Rat Patrol had been saddled with just because someone had considered them to be an ''expert'' in something. When Hitch's gaze came to rest on him, Moffitt glared at him.

Hitch gave him a slow smile. "Well, I guess not all of the experts have been all bad. At least one of them proved to be kind of useful.''

''Which one?'' Troy looked at Moffitt. When he got no reaction, he punched Moffitt lightly on the shoulder. ''Come on! That's funny, Moffitt. Where's your sense of humor? No snappy come back?''

''My good humor and wit might reappear after a cup of tea. Or after four additional hours of sleep. Whichever comes first.'' Stiffly, Moffitt crossed his arms against his chest. "Something tells me it's most likely going to be the tea.''

''And you'd be right.''

''I was afraid of that.'' Moffitt sighed and thought again about his unoccupied bunk.

''Well, let's go meet this expert. It's not getting any earlier.'' Troy started walking and his three men followed.

''So have you met this guy, Sarge?'' Hitch asked, dragging his feet at the rear of the line.

''No. I haven't and I don't know much about him. Guy's name is MJ Knight. I guess Boggs was pretty impressed by him. Went on about how lucky we were to have such an amazing person at our disposal.'' Troy led them predictably towards the camp's visitor's tent. "Wouldn't shut up about it, actually.''

''Well, if the old man is that impressed, then this man must really be something.'' Despite himself, Moffitt had to admit that he was curious about their new ''expert specialist.''

''We'll see.'' Troy shrugged. He brought them to a halt in front of the visitor's tent. ''MJ Knight?'' he called through the slight gap in the tent flap. ''It's Sergeant Sam Troy. Captain Boggs sent me?''

A muffled reply came from the tent.

Troy looked back at his men. There was an odd expression on his face. ''Be right back.''

A small fire, expertly built, burned outside of the tent. Upon it was a kettle that seemed to be almost ready to boil. Moffitt pointed. ''I'm very much liking this fellow already! Must be a country man of mine, or, at the very least, an unusually civilized American.''

Hitch rolled his eyes. ''Wonder if he can make coffee? Now there's a skill that we'd appreciate.''

''Amen,'' said Tully.

"Absolutely!'' came a voice. ''I make excellent coffee. Coffee and tea hold equal places in my affections.''

It took Moffitt a moment to put his finger on why the sound of the voice had shocked him so thoroughly. After a moment, he realized it was because it sounded as though it belonged to a woman. He turned his head so quickly that he felt something pop in his neck. The owner of the voice was indeed a woman. And a very fine looking woman, indeed. She may be the very nicest thing that had ever happened to the desert.

And he really meant it this time, thought Moffitt. Mouth open, he looked at Troy.

Troy looked just as surprised, if not more, as Moffitt felt.

''Erm, Miss MJ Knight, I presume?'' Moffitt looked at her and felt particularly awkward. In her silk dressing gown, a brilliant emerald that matched her eyes, it was impossible to tell if the young woman was an officer or not. He wondered vaguely if he should salute her or shake her hand. He waited for her to do something which might give him a clue around how to proceed.

''Sergeant Jack Moffitt, I presume?'' MJ extended her hand and firmly grasped Moffitt's when he offered it in return. ''It's a pleasure to meet you! Yes, I'm MJ Knight.''

''The pleasure is all mine, Miss Knight.'' Moffitt turned to Tully and Hitch. ''Miss MJ Knight, may I present to you Privates Tully Pettigrew and Mark Hitchcock?''

Miss Knight smiled brilliantly and shook both of their hands in turn. "Great to meet you all!''

Hitch, grinning from ear to ear, and Tully, smiling shyly, both nodded.

Moffitt looked at Troy. Troy still looked dumbfounded. Moffitt wasn't sure that he blamed him.

Miss Knight broke the silence. ''Would you like some tea, Sergeant Moffitt? The kettle is about to boil.''

''Absolutely! That would be spectacular.'' Moffitt watched MJ take the kettle from the fire. ''Wherever in the desert did you find a proper kettle?''

''Oh, I brought it with me. From England. Tea is very important, you know. Warms the body and raises the spirits.''

''A woman after my own heart,'' Moffitt murmured appreciatively. He had never thought that he would ever hear those words stated in an American accent, much less by a beautiful woman.

Carrying the kettle, Miss Knight went towards the tent flap. ''Coming?'' she asked, before she disappeared inside.

''Of course.'' Moffitt grabbed a dazed looking Troy's elbow. ''Coming, Troy?''

''Yeah.'' Troy blinked.

''Are you all right? What's wrong?''

Closing his eyes and then reopening them, Troy looked at Moffitt. ''When she called me into the tent . . .'' Troy paused, apparently trying to gather his thoughts.

Moffitt waited patiently.

''I was expecting a man. And then I walked in . . . And she's obviously not a guy.'' Troy's eyes grew wide. ''And to top it off, she was barely dressed,'' he whispered.

''I see.'' Troy always had all of the luck, thought Moffitt. ''Bit of a shock, old man?"

''Yeah.''

Moffitt thought about what he had seen so far of MJ Knight. And while he had not had the good fortune to see as much of her as had Troy, it had been enough to allow Moffitt to form a rather strong opinion. ''Couldn't have been that unpleasant, could it?''

''No, not at all. I'm just having problems thinking about anything else.''

''Completely understandable.'' Grinning, Moffitt directed Troy inside.

Tully and Hitch followed closely behind.

Miss Knight was pouring hot water into a teapot. Moffitt watched with appreciation as she added what he considered to be the perfect amount of water to the tea. He then watched as she magically produced a cafèterie and coffee and added the remainder of the hot water into it.

''Have a seat, gentlemen. And help yourself to either tea or coffee as you like.'' Miss Knight gestured to the chairs around the table. Moving to the cot, she took a seat there, giving a glimpse of long smooth legs as she settled her dressing gown around her.

Troy, having recovered enough to sit down, took a seat first. Moffitt, Tully, and Hitch followed his lead and joined him at the table.

Miss Knight nodded. ''I suppose,'' she said, pulling her long dark hair into a haphazard knot, ''that you're all wondering what our mission is going to be and what role that you're going to play in it?''

''Yeah,'' said Troy. ''What do you have in store for us, Miss Knight? It Miss Knight, isn't it?''

Laughing, Miss Knight nodded. ''Yes, it is. I'm a civilian. No rank to worry about. And very much a Miss.'' She held up her left hand to showcase a very naked ring finger.

The table breathed a collective sigh of relief.

''I am, by training, a doctor, but more of a research scientist now. And my specialty is the study of infectious diseases. I work with a very large organization that is dedicated to world health.''

The table nodded along, attention raptly on Dr. Knight. Both the tea and the coffee went untouched.

Dr. Knight continued. ''It has come to our attention that there has been a new and particularly dangerous virus created in North Africa. And also, from what we have heard, those that are working with the disease may be planning to engineer it to make it even more deadly. There's a doctor in the desert who is definitely capable of pulling it off.'' She paused and looked at the men of the Rat Patrol. ''It's really a very important and very grave matter.''

''So, where do we come in, Dr. Knight?'' Troy asked. ''Are we destroying the location where you think that the virus is and the work that's been done on it so far?''

Moffitt looked thoughtful. ''I would wager that we're not only going to do that, but that we're also going to be asked to either capture or kill the person doing the research? Am I right, Dr. Knight?''

Troy shot Moffitt a look that Moffitt interpreted as an order to keep his predictions to himself. Moffitt smirked. They'd see who was right.

''Anyone else have any guesses around what I'm asking of your team?'' Dr. Knight clapped her hands together like an excited child. "I'm really enjoying this game. I wish that there was a prize that I could give for the best answer.''

''I can think of one,'' Hitch muttered under his breath.

Moffitt elbowed him. ''Behave!'' he scolded.

''Well,'' Tully began slowly, ''I'd think that we'd do all of that, but it seems to me that maybe you wouldn't want to destroy the virus. Maybe you'd want to take a sample of it and make a cure? That way, everyone would always be safe. And then capture the guy who made it, too, just for good measure.''

''Private Pettigrew!'' Dr. Knight exclaimed, ''you are absolutely right! That is exactly what our mission entails!''

''Nice work,'' Moffitt told Tully.

Tully smiled and shrugged.

Troy narrowed his eyes. ''All right. Sounds reasonable enough. We've certainly been given worse to do.'' He looked around the table and waited while everyone nodded. ''But, Dr. Knight, there were somethings that you said that I'm not sure that I like the sound of at all.''

Dr. Knight raised her eyebrows. ''Yes? What?''

''Well, if you'll excuse me, ma'am, I heard you say 'our' mission and 'that's exactly what we'll be doing.' You're not planning on coming along are you?''

''Of course I am. You'll need me, Sergeant Troy, trust me.'' Dr. Knight shrugged. ''Why the hesitation? I am expert in viruses and I will be able to recognize it and the people working with it. I'll also be able to help you handle it safely to ensure that you aren't infected and even worse, that an epidemic isn't accidently started in the desert.''

Moffitt watched as Troy colored slightly. He knew the reason for Troy's hesitation but he was loath to voice it, just as apparently Troy was.

''Ma'am, what we do is extremely dangerous. And I certainly don't doubt that what you do is, as well. And I'm not arguing that you're an expert and that your input is extremely necessary to our success. But . . .'' Troy paused, his eyes burning with more intensity, ''I am not taking a woman into that situation!''

The collective table had all of their eyes trained on Troy. When he finished speaking, they moved their gaze expectantly to Dr. Knight, as if they were watching a tennis match.

Dr. Knight calmly got up from the bed and came to the table. She leaned down until she was eye level with them all and then she turned to Troy. ''Sergeant Troy, I've spoken to Captain Boggs. I know that your orders are to take me with you. Certainly, you're not going to argue with your commanding officer are you? Even if you don't approve of me tagging along?''

Troy was looking her directly in the eyes as he answered. ''Yes, I will argue, ma'am,'' Troy told MJ Knight.

The familar stubborn jut of Troy's jaw was not lost on Moffitt. Moffitt knew that it certainly wouldn't be the first time that Troy had argued with Boggs.

And sometimes, Troy even won.


	2. Dietrich's Lucky Day

Troy threw his hat on the table.

Moffitt looked up from what he thought might be ersatz eggs. ''Trouble, Troy?''

Troy sat down with a force that rattled Moffitt's tray. ''Yeah, you could say that.''

''What's wrong, Sarge?'' Hitch asked.

Tully put his fork down and looked interested.

''Dr. MJ Knight, that's what's wrong. Boggs won't budge. He's insisting on us taking her with us.'' Troy had had little sleep, as they all had, and it showed both on his face and in his tone.

''How very extraordinary,'' Moffitt mused. ''Boggs is encouraging us to take someone with us who is not only a civilian, but also a woman. I would have thought that he would have thrown a bigger fit than you at that. I get the impression that he considers even nurses to be a bit of a liability.''

''Yeah, I don't get it either. It's not normal.'' Troy shook his head and then got up. ''I'm going to eat and then we're going to get going.''

''Where to?'' Hitch asked.

''West of here. Arab town. Apparently, Dr. Knight seems to think that's where the virus is. And so, that's where we're going to go.''

* * *

><p>Breakfast finished and kit assembled, the four men went to the motor pool to pick up their jeeps.<p>

When they got closer, it was apparent that Dr. Knight was sitting in the driver's seat of Moffitt and Tully's jeep.

''Hope she doesn't think she's driving,'' Tully muttered, looking put out that she was in his spot.

''Well, she's figuratively in the driver's seat for this mission,'' said Moffitt, ''why not literally?''

''It'll be a cold day.'' Tully frowned around his matchstick. ''She can drive Troy around.''

Hitch yawned. ''Why not? I could use a nap.''

Despite his earlier bad humor, Troy grinned. ''Maybe we should just let her man the .50.''

''Then I could take a nap.'' Moffitt laughed. ''It might not be so bad having her along after all, eh Troy?''

Dr. Knight looked up from the book that she was reading at the sound of Moffitt's laughter. She smiled at the four men.

''Good morning, gentlemen!'' she called. Getting out of the jeep, she came over to them. ''Are we all ready to go?''

''Yep, I guess we are.'' Troy put the emphasis on ''we'' and made a face at Moffitt.

Moffitt barely noticed. Dr. Knight had changed into a pair of well fitting khaki field trousers that were tucked into high brown boots that resembled Troy's. And even though Dr. Knight had made the attempt to hide her hair under a cap, there was little mistaking that she was undoubtedly female, and in the best possible way. Moffitt allowed himself a moment to enjoy the view as it was a rare one. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Hitch who, not surprisingly, was doing the same.

She was, thought Moffitt, in the words of Hemingway built with curves like the hull of a racing yacht.

Dr. Knight nodded to Troy. ''Where would you like me?''

Sneaking a glance at Troy, Moffitt wondered how Troy was going to answer that one. There seemed to be rather limitless possibilities, some much ruder than others.

However, even when put out, Troy remained a gentleman. ''You can ride with Tully and Moffitt, Dr. Knight.''

Moffitt was extraoridnarily pleased. Hitch and Tully both looked disappointed, though Moffitt suspected that it was for very different reasons.

''Great. I was hoping that you might suggest that.'' Dr. Knight handed the book that she had been reading to Moffitt. ''I was thinking that we might be able to discuss this during the ride.''

Moffitt immediately recognized the cover of the book. ''You're interested in archeology, Dr. Knight?''

''Yes, I am. I actually thought of studying it. I saw the most wonderful guest speaker at my University and listening to him almost convinced me that I had chosen the wrong field.''

Moffitt handed her the book. "Must've been quite the lecture. There's a fairly big divide between studying medicine and archeology. Whom, may I ask, was the speaker?''

''The author of the book.''

''I see.'' Moffitt smiled. ''The author of that book is my father.''

''I thought that might be the case. That's why I was hoping that we would be able to chat. Isn't that quite the coincidence? Small world, right?'' Dr. Knight linked her arm through Moffitt's.

''Yes, but it's a very big war.''

''Not much chatting going to be going on in a moving jeep,'' Moffitt heard Tully mutter.

Moffitt couldn't disagree.

But with his opportunities limited, even at the best of times, to discuss the true love of his life with a beautiful and intelligent woman Moffitt was certainly going to make every effort.

* * *

><p>To Moffitt it seemed as if the tanks and half tracks had appeared from out of nowhere.<p>

Moffitt saw Troy clamber out of his seat to man his .50. Moffitt unfolded himself from his position behind Dr. Knight to do the same. ''Keep your head down, Dr. Knight!'' he yelled to her over the noise of guns that were already firing.

Dr. Knight nodded and obediently ducked down into her seat. Satisfied that she was as safe as she could be considering the circumstances, Moffitt leapt up to the gun and started doing his best to take out as many Germans as he could.

Unfortunately, only moments afterwards, their jeep began to sputter.

Moffitt heard Tully swear. Then, he heard Tully apologize to Dr. Knight.

''Tully!'' Moffitt yelled. ''What is it?''

''Worst luck ever?''

Moffitt saw Troy watching them in disbelief as the jeep rolled to a halt. Moffitt shook his head helplessly.

Troy yelled something to Hitch. The other jeep swung around and came roaring towards Moffitt and Tully, laying down fire to dissuade any of the Germans from coming too close. Moffitt continued to fire for the same reason. He was very aware that Dr. Knight was with them and that his first priority was to keep her as safe as possible.

More German vehicles appeared and with them, of course, appeared Captain Dietrich.

Being at a dead standstill in a firefight was hardly a good thing and Moffitt was starting to feel distinctly like a sitting duck as the bullets whizzed by him. When it had become apparent that they were surrounded and that continuing to deny that fact was becoming suicidal, Moffitt stopped firing his gun and raised his hands.

Looking thoroughly disgusted with the situation, Troy did the same.

Captain Dietrich climbed down from his perch on one of the half tracks and came towards them with his second in tow. Both were smiling. ''Gentlemen of the Rat Patrol, you seem to be surrounded,'' Dietrich said, coming to stand in front of them. "Surrender is a very intelligent option in this situation, Sergeant Troy. Though not one I expected you to take so easily.''

''Consider it your lucky day, Captain,'' Troy growled.

Dietrich's eyes went to Dr. Knight. ''A new patrol member, Sergeant?''

''You could say that.'' Troy jumped down off the back of the jeep when Dietrich's lieutenant waved his gun at him.

Moffitt did the same, hands up and his attention on Dr. Knight all the while. Considering the situation, he thought that she seemed to be holding up rather well. She calmly climbed out of the jeep, as did Tully. Both of them stood beside the crippled vehicle, their hands up.

Dietrich's lieutenant shepherded them all at gun point to where Dietrich stood. Dietrich intently studied Dr. Knight, a puzzled look on his face. In a sudden and swift movement, he removed her hat. The raven waves of her hair cascaded down, freed of their restraint. Dietrich's eyes went as big as saucers.

''Hey!'' Dr. Knight snapped. ''Keep your hands to yourself, Herr Hauptmann.''

''A woman?'' Dietrich looked over at Troy and chuckled. ''How very unusual. Though, the ease of your surrender makes sense now, Sergeant Troy.''

Continuing to look disgusted, Troy merely growled.

''You seem to know everyone else, Herr Hauptmann,'' Dr. Knight said. ''And I don't think we've had the pleasure. I'm MJ Knight.''

Dietrich inclined his head before giving her a half bow. ''Hauptmann Hans Dietrich. And the pleasure is all mine, Fraulein. I am very much looking forward to making your acquaintance. So much in fact that you are coming with me. I will enjoy the company.'' His eyes scanned over her face. ''And the scenery. You are much easier on the eyes that Leutnant Bader.'' He smiled at his second. ''No offense, Bader.''

''None taken, sir,'' Bader said.

Dietrich gestured with his pistol for Dr. Knight to come and stand beside him. With a backwards look over her shoulder at Moffitt and Troy, she did as directed.

Taking her arm, Dietrich guided her to his half track. He nodded to a small group of soldiers who were holding their guns at the ready. "Secure the men,'' he ordered them in German. ''Back to the camp!'' Dietrich yelled to the larger group.

His men began to climb back into their vehicles as Dietrich chivalrously helped Dr. Knight into the half track.

Troy, Moffitt, Tully and Hitch were encouraged, far less gently, into the back of one of the German trucks.

In mere moments, they were on their way to Dietrich's camp.

* * *

><p>Facing each other, one propped up at either end, Moffitt and Hitch shared the one bunk in the room.<p>

Tully sat backwards on the one chair, his arms draped over the back of it. His chin rested on his arms and a matchstick hung from his lips.

Troy paced circuits around the room.

All of them were quiet.

Moffitt found the rhythm of Troy's steps hypnotic and he found himself dozing off. He rather unpleasantly jerked himself back awake.

''What do you think that Dietrich did with Dr. Knight?'' Hitch asked. He blew a bubble and then popped it, sucking the gum back into his mouth. ''Do you think that she's okay? She must be scared half to death.''

''Probably.'' Troy stopped pacing long enough to light a cigarette.

Moffitt knew that Troy was likely very concerned about the woman. ''I'm sure that Dietrich will be a complete gentleman to her, Troy. She's a civilian.''

''Yeah.'' Troy exhaled a thin stream of smoke. ''An American civilian willingly in the company of four known Allied commandos.''

Moffitt frowned. ''I do see your point.'' Dr. Knight may not have anything to fear from Dietrich, but she likely would not fare as well with the Gestapo or the SS or whoever else might be on the list to end up with them. Moffitt was well aware that not all branches of the German military held the same respect for women as the Wehrmacht did. It was a troubling thought. As bad as their experiences would be with either the Gestapo or the SS, there were far worse things, Moffitt realized, that could befall a woman in the same situation.

Hitch obviously realized it, as well. ''We need to get out of here and get her out of here, too.'' He snapped his gum and looked hopefully at Troy.

Troy shot him a look. ''If you have any ideas, I'm all ears, Hitch.'' He looked up at the ceiling. ''Though, I'm sure, so are the walls. So watch it.''

Hitch blew another bubble and said nothing.

There was a noise in the hallway.

Moffitt and Hitch scrambled off the bed and Tully got up so quickly he almost knocked his chair over. All four of them got into positions that would be the most advantageous for an attack if the opportunity presented itself.

The door opened.

Dietrich entered the room with Dr. Knight.

Dr. Knight was smiling.

Dietrich looked decidedly cross.

Moffitt realized that Dietrich's displeasure undoubtedly had something to do with the fact that Dr. Knight had a gun shoved into Dietrich's side.

''Hi guys!'' Dr. Knight said cheerfully. ''Miss me?''

''You're a real sight for sore eyes,'' said Hitch. ''You okay, Dr. Knight?''

''She's fine!'' Dietrich snapped. ''I wish I could say the same for Leutnant Bader and the other men which Miss Knight felt compelled to violently disable.''

Dr. Knight shrugged. "Sorry, Hauptmann Dietrich, they got a little carried away and so did I. I'm sure that they'll all be good as new. With rest and the proper medical care, of course.''

Tully snickered. ''Captain, your guys got beaten up by a little girl?'' He shook his head.

''No. Not all of them were beaten.'' Dietrich looked at Dr. Knight. ''She shot two of them.''

''What? Where did she get a gun?'' Troy asked. He looked at Dr. Knight. ''Where did you get a gun?''

''I borrowed it. From the Hauptmann.'' Dr. Knight smiled down at the gun that she still had pressed into Dietrich's side. ''It's a very nice gun. He has wonderful taste in firearms.''

Moffitt looked at the Luger that Dr. Knight seemed to be very comfortable holding. ''I'm sure.'' His eyes moved to Troy. ''Well, considering that the door to the room is open and that we now have a very important hostage, I'd say that we're all set for an escape plan, courtesy of Dr. Knight.''

Troy nodded. ''Looks that way. Let's shake it.''


	3. Always Prepared

Using Dietrich as a ticket for safe passage had worked remarkably well.

His men seemed invested in keeping him alive, which Moffitt thought was both a compliment to Dietrich's leadership and very fortunate for their escape plans. It had been little work for the Rat Patrol and their guest to appropriate Dietrich's Kubelwagon and to drive safely away from the camp.

Dietrich had spent a silent ride stuck between Moffitt and Troy in the back seat while Tully, MJ, and Hitch had squeezed into the front. Soon enough, they were back to where their jeeps had been abandoned.

Tully lost little time in popping open the bonnet of his and Moffitt's lame jeep. Hitch went to his and came back with a length of rope. "Here, thought that you might need this, Sarge.'' He handed it to Moffitt and then moved on to consult with Tully on the repairs to the other jeep.

Moffitt, Troy, Dr. Knight, and Dietrich settled in at the base of a dune to wait. Dietrich seemed to have little fight left in him as Moffitt lashed his wrists and his ankles together. Must be bloody embarrassing, thought Moffitt, to have yourself and your men taken down by a girl that might weigh eight stone, if she was sopping wet.

''Verdammt Weib!'' Dietrich muttered under his breath, the first thing that he had said in a very long time. "Ich sollte nicht eine Frau, die mit der Rat Patrol reisen würden unterschätzt habenis.''

Moffitt couldn't help but to snort. ''Das ist richtig, Herr Hauptmann.''

''Ich entschuldige Mich. '' Dr. Knight did indeed look sorry. ''Ich hatte keine Wahl. Es ist bedauerlich, dass ich deine Soldaten verletze. Ich bin Arzt, ich würde nicht Schaden einen Mann ohne Grund.''

Troy looked at them sharply. ''Can you all have a conversation in English?''

"Captain Dietrich is expressing his sorrow and displeasure at being bested by a woman, saying that he should have known not to under estimate anyone who was with us. Even if she does happen to be female. And Dr. Knight apologized to the Captain and told him that he had left her little choice.'' Moffitt looked at Dr. Knight with admiration. ''Your German is really very good.''

''It is.'' Dietrich glared at Moffitt. ''And it is better than yours, Sergeant. Though, it would not take much.''

''Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. No need to be insulting, Captain. Just because you're having a particularly bad day is no reason to take it out on everyone else.'' Moffitt threw a genial smile in Dietrich's direction. ''Could I tighten those ropes up for you? It really would be no trouble at all.''

Dr. Knight got up. She dusted herself down and looked over to where Hitch and Tully were still working on the jeep. Hitch had just attempted to start it with little success. ''I am sure that this conversation is likely to digress into one that's not fit for a lady's tender ears. I think I'll go over and see if I can lend a hand to the boys.'' With a smile at them, she headed off.

Moffitt watched Hitch hit the jeep's steering wheel in frustration. ''Somehow, I doubt if their conversation is any more civil.''

''Yeah,'' said Troy. ''And unless she can fix a jeep, she's just going to be in the way.''

''Who knows? Maybe she can.'' Moffitt shrugged. ''Dr. Knight seems to be full of surprises.''

''So she really is a doctor? How very remarkable.'' Dietrich watched Dr. Knight as she looked into Tully's scowling face and gave him a disarming smile. "What is she doing with your patrol? She is a civilian, is she not?''

''We can't tell you much about her, Captain. I'm sure that you'll understand.'' Troy lit a cigarette. He held another one up to Dietrich.

Dietrich nodded and Troy put the cigarette between the Captain's lips and lit it. Conversation lulled as Dietrich and Troy smoked. Moffitt watched with interest as Dr. Knight leaned under the hood of the jeep. In a few moments, he saw her hand raised in a ''thumbs up'' gesture. Hitch started the jeep. The engine stuttered and then caught. Hitch gave a whoop of delight. Tully crossed his arms against his chest.

To use one of Tully's own turns of phrase, he looked, thought Moffitt, fit to be tied.

''Apparently,'' Dietrich said dryly, ''Dr. Knight is a mechanic, as well as an expert at hand to hand combat and an excellent markswoman. Are all American women so capable? If so, it is a missed opportunity for the Allies that you left most of them behind at home to be Rosie the Riveter. You could have won the war by now.''

''She's definitely something,'' Moffitt agreed. ''Do you have many more at home like her, Troy? If so, I agree with the Captain. Perhaps FDR should look at extending the draft to them. Definitely make the war a damn sight more interesting, not to mention more attractive.''

''As far as I can see, Dr. Knight is one of a kind.'' Troy pitched his cigarette and got up. ''Let's get out of here. It's going to be dark here soon and I'd prefer to return the Captain closer to home while it's still light.''

''Very considerate of you, Sergeant,'' Dietrich said as Troy and Moffitt helped him to his feet. ''Travelling with a woman may be having a positive effect on you. You seem kinder and gentler.''

''Don't mention it, Captain. And I mean it, really, don't mention it.''

* * *

><p>Moffitt settled Dietrich none too gently into the back of Troy's and Hitch's jeep. Dietrich grimaced as he banged his elbow off the side. Then he glared at Moffitt.<p>

''Tut mir Leid. Wenn mein Deutsch besser war, würde ich vielleicht vorsichtiger sein.'' Moffitt left Dietrich to stew on that and went over to hear the tale of the miraculous resurrection of the jeep.

''Loose wire,'' Dr. Knight was saying, ''just plain dumb luck that I found it.''

Tully grunted and looked perplexed. There was a redness to his face that likely hadn't come from the sun. "I know that I checked that.''

''Must've needed a woman's touch, huh, buddy?'' Hitch elbowed Tully. Tully looked none too pleased and Hitch moved a few preventive steps away from him.

''I don't care who fixed it. We're good to go?'' Troy said. ''I want to get Dietrich close to home but not too close to home and us far enough away that we can find a good place to set up camp for the night.''

''Sounds good.'' Moffitt looked at Dr. Knight. "I hope that you don't mind to spend the night under the beautiful African sky, Dr. Knight? It can get a bit chilly, but we'll make sure that you're perfectly safe.''

''No, I don't mind, not at all. I enjoy camping. I was a Girl Scout.'' Dr. Knight held up three fingers. ''Always prepared.'' She grinned and got into the back of the jeep.

Troy stared after Dr. Knight and shook his head. ''Of course she was a Girl Scout.''

* * *

><p>After depositing Dietrich a few miles outside of his camp, the Rat Patrol and their plus one continued on their journey.<p>

Tully and Hitch drove as fast as they possibly could to maximize their distance before the sun set. When Troy was satisfied that they had made it far enough, he called a halt and they set up camp.

''Whose turn is it to cook?'' Troy asked. He sifted through one of the packs and brought out several boxes of field rations.

Not surprisingly, no one admitted that it was their turn. Not that it was difficult, thought Moffitt, to reheat the rubbish. It was the fact that whoever happened to perform the chore got blamed for how awful the meal was that made a man hesitate.

''I'll do it,'' Dr. Knight said. She went over to Troy and took one of the boxes. Opening it, she examined the contents.

Giving her the other boxes, Troy shrugged. ''Why not?'' He pulled out the pan and handed it to her. ''The fire should be hot enough soon. I seeded it with some TNT.''

Moffitt felt like it might be the appropriate thing to do to protest that Dr. Knight was their guest. However, he didn't necessarily have the desire to handle the cooking duty himself, so he restrained his chivalrous inclinations. He pulled his jacket tighter. It was getting bloody cold. At least, he told himself, if Dr. Knight was near the fire, she'd stay warm.

"I'll help!'' Hitch volunteered, enthusiastically.

''I'll take watch,'' said Tully. After taking a Thompson he disappeared, not surprisingly, without any further comment.

Moffitt and Troy settled in beside the fire to watch the efforts of Dr. Knight and Hitch. Opening the tins, Dr. Knight dumped the dubious contents into the pan. She handed Hitch a spoon. ''Stir,'' she told him. Then she got up and went to the jeep. After a few moments of sorting through her kit, she came back with a few items.

''Here.'' She handed Moffitt a canteen. ''This should take the chill off, Sergeants. Cheers.'' She went back over to Hitch.

Troy raised his eyebrows in askance. Moffitt shrugged and took the cap off the canteen. He sniffed the contents. A slow smile spread across his face. He took a drink and offered it to Troy.

''What is it?'' Troy eyed it suspiciously.

''Better than tea.''

''Moffitt, did you just say something was better than tea? Well, you'd better give me some, then.'' Troy took a drink and made a face. ''Tastes like peat moss. Scotch?''

''Yes, and a particularly good one at that. Single malt.'' Moffitt looked at MJ. ''Dr. Knight has excellent taste.''

''If you say so.'' Troy handed the canteen back to Moffitt.

Moffitt took another drink. As advertised, it was pleasantly warming. He grinned when Troy motioned again for the canteen. "It's an acquired taste.'' Moffitt handed the canteen back and smiled as Troy took another drink, this time without making quite the face.

''Apparently I'm acquiring it.''

Moffitt sniffed the air. ''Either I've already had too much whiskey, or that actually smells decent.''

''Better than normal, anyway.'' Troy took another drink from the canteen and handed it back to Moffitt. ''What are you doing over there, Hitch?''

''Stirring,'' Hitch answered. ''Smells good, right?''

''Yeah. How did you manage that?''

''I had some spices with me. I added them into the meal to heat through.'' Dr. Knight looked across the fire at Moffitt and Troy. ''Quite simple, really. Nothing fancy.''

''Spices?'' Moffitt whispered to Troy. ''Really?''

Troy shrugged. ''Always prepared. Girl Scout, remember?''

Moffitt made a mental note to ensure that when he took his future bride, if fate saw fit to allow him that opportunity, that she be a former Girl Guide.

* * *

><p>The meal had smelled so good that they hadn't even had to call Tully back from watch.<p>

He came loping back of his own accord. And, Moffitt thought, Tully had either forgiven MJ for fixing the jeep earlier or he was hungry enough that he simply did not care anymore. Tully had a first helping and then a second helping, grinning at Dr. Knight all the while.

''That was real good, ma'am,'' Tully told Dr. Knight.

''Thank you, Tully. And Hitch helped, as well.'' MJ smiled at Hitch. "Couldn't have done it without him!"

Hitch ducked his head and looked pleased.

''I guess Hitch'll be cooking all the time from now on then.'' Tully fished out an after dinner matchstick from his pocket and stuck it into his mouth.

Hitch thought about that and frowned. ''I just stirred. No big deal.''

Moffitt found Hitch's response hilariously funny. But when Troy joined him in laughing, Moffitt thought that it just might be the considerable amount of whisky that they had shared between them.

''Anyway, good meal, MJ,'' Troy said. He reconsidered. ''Dr. Knight.''

''MJ is fine, Sergeant. As we're spending all this time together, we might as well all be on a first name basis.'' Getting up from her place beside the fire, MJ came over and dropped into the small space between Moffitt and Troy.

For the first time, Moffitt noticed that she smelled rather nice despite having been out in the desert sun all day. Perhaps it was just the whiskey. He turned the canteen up again.

''You seem to be enjoying that, Jack.'' She gestured for him to pass it along to her. ''Care to share?''

Moffitt looked at her dubiously. With a slight shrug he did as she asked.

She took a sizeable drink and then licked her lips. ''Oh my,'' MJ sighed. ''That is good.''

Hitch was watching. ''Can I have some?''

''It's your watch,'' Troy told him, taking the canteen back from MJ. ''But it's cold out there, so I guess one sip won't hurt.''

Hitch came over and took the canteen. ''Ah. That brings back memories,'' he said after he had swallowed a rather large measure.

''Memories of what?'' Moffitt asked.

''Well, when Dad and Mom used to go to the club to play golf, I'd be at home alone. The guys would come over. I got real popular once I found the key to the old man's liquor cabinet.'' Hitch gave them a devilish grin.

''The touching poignancy of innocent childhood memories,'' said Moffitt. He took the canteen from Hitch. ''Give me that, you juvenile delinquent.''

Still grinning, Hitch took the Thompson from Tully and started up over a dune. ''I hope that there's some of that left when I come back,'' he called over his shoulder.

''Not bloody likely, but a boy can dream,'' Moffitt called in response.

MJ giggled softly and took the canteen. She took a drink and then offered it to Tully.

Tully shook his head. ''No thank you, ma'am.''

''Tea totaller?'' MJ asked.

''Nah, not hardly. I'm going to get some sleep.'' Tully jerked his head at Moffitt and Troy. ''Something tells me that I'll probably need to take the next watch, too.'' Tully left in the direction of the jeeps, most likely to retrieve his bed roll.

MJ's eyes followed him. ''I don't think he likes me.'' She looked down and leaned into Moffitt's shoulder.

''Oh, it's not that. Our Tully is just shy, that's all. Takes him a bit to warm up. You'll see,'' Moffitt told her, barely resisting the urge to put his arm about her shoulders.

''Yeah.'' Troy lit a cigarette. "He's from the mountains in Kentucky, real isolated area. He grew up knowing everyone there was to know. I think that makes him a little hesitant around strangers. Ask Moffitt.''

Moffitt nodded. ''I think that in the first month that I knew him, he spoke around a half dozen words to me.''

Troy grinned. ''Yeah, and now you get at least around two or three dozen from him in a month's time.''

MJ smiled and looked into the fire. ''You know, Tully and I might have more in common than he might think.''

''Your family run moonshine and live in the holler too, Dr. Knight?'' Troy laughed.

''Well, I knew some folks that made a little of the white lightening, but no not my family per se. I did grow up on a dirt farm in West Virginia, though.''

Moffitt looked at her. MJ was the very picture of worldly sophistication. He would have thought that she would have had more in common with Hitch, or even himself, than Tully.

''It's true.'' She nodded. ''I guess I'll take it as a compliment that you look so surprised, Jack. But I did indeed grow up poor and barefoot in the hollers of West Virginia. It taught me a lot though. Like how to fix a car. Or how to make the least appetizing food as appealing as possible. I could fix you a squirrel that you would swear was something from a five star restaurant. And how to shoot a gun, so that I could kill said squirrel.''

''Makes sense. How did you make it to medical school from there?'' Troy asked.

''I won a scholarship to the state university. So, after high school, I went off to the big city.'' MJ took the canteen back from Moffitt. "At least, it seemed like a big city to me then. I studied as much as I could and then went to Baltimore to finish my medical degree. I ended up in Washington, DC after I graduated and worked with the War Research Service. While I was working there, I met a man. I followed him to Europe.''

''Is that when you learned to speak German?'' Moffitt asked her, truly impressed with the story thus far.

''Oh, no. I left out an earlier part of the story, I suppose. I wasn't born in West Virginia. I was actually born here, in Africa. My parents liked to travel. We lived in Africa, Germany, Russia, Italy, France, England, and Poland. All before I was thirteen.''

Moffitt whistled. ''That's quite a world tour, certainly. How did you end up in the wilds of Appalachia, then?''

Drawing her knees up to her chest, MJ rested her chin on them. ''My parents died. I had no one to take care of me. I was sent back to the closest family I had. Cousins on my mother's side.''

''Oh.'' Moffitt felt like his life had been ridiculously charmed in comparison. "I am sorry.''

''Yeah,'' said Troy, heaving a heavy sigh, his eyes suddenly soft. ''I am too. I lost my dad at about that age. I can't imagine losing both parents at the same time. If you don't mind me asking, how did it happen?''

''They caught an illness. No one knew how to cure them. First my mother became ill and then, my father. They died an awful and slow death. And once they were in the hospital, I wasn't even allowed to see them.'' MJ smiled bravely despite her sad tale. ''At least I don't have to remember them like that, suffering and ill.''

''And that's why you study diseases? And try to find cures?''

''Exactly.'' MJ raised her head. ''If I can keep even one child from losing their parents like I did, then I've made a contribution to the world. And that's why it's so important that we find this virus and why we stop it from being used as a weapon.''

They sat silently in the firelight, passing the canteen back and forth. More conversation occurred but it was, thankfully, of a lighter variety. At least that Moffitt could recall. At some point, he imagined that he must have passed out. A few hours later he woke to find himself cold, with his mouth tasting like an old man's sweater, and rewarded by the sight of MJ sleeping peacefully next to Troy.

Not even bothering to get up to get his bedroll, Moffitt fell asleep again while chastising himself.

After all, hadn't he learned as an undergraduate that he who was first to pass out at the party was never the chap that ended up with the girl?


	4. Best Laid Plans

When Moffitt woke again, he found that someone had draped a blanket over him.

Dawn was peeking over the horizon in all of its glory. Yawning, he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. A light snore coming from beside him indicated that Troy was still asleep. The sound of a rather sweet voice singing indicated that MJ was awake.

''Hello, there, sleepy head,'' MJ said, softly.

''Good morning.'' Moffitt noticed that she had started another fire. He moved closer to it, hoping that it would chase some of the chill from his bones and some of the kinks out of his muscles.

''Tea?''

''Bless you. I could murder a cup.''

MJ grinned and handed him a good measure of tea. Moffitt breathed it in before taking a drink. He realized that this was no tea produced from a tablet dissolved in tepid water. ''You brought the kettle?''

She nodded. "I thought that you in particular might appreciate it.''

""Very much so, thank you.'' Moffitt thought it was just one of many things that he had grown to appreciate about MJ. He gathered the blanket around his shoulders and took a sip of the tea. ''Mmmmm,'' he muttered.

''And some coffee, as well, for the boys. It's ready for them when they wake up. I took Tully some, he's out on watch. Hitch is getting his beauty sleep. Not that he needs it.'' MJ placed the skillet back on the fire.

Moffitt noticed that she had found the breakfast rations. He'd be interested to see if even MJ could salvage those. ''Sorry that I passed out on you and Troy last night. Were you up for much longer?''

''No, not much. Sam and I called it a night not long after you fell asleep.''

Moffitt dipped his head back down over the cup, hoping to hide his expression. Just a few hours before, MJ had still been calling Troy ''Sergeant.'' Now, thought Moffitt, it was ''Sam.''

He wondered what he had slept through. One really didn't need a PhD from Cambridge to figure it out, he supposed. Moffitt really hadn't seen that coming. Or, maybe he had. His memories of the evening prior seemed fuzzy to say the least.

And there was no denying that war and whisky always made the strangest bedfellows.

* * *

><p>Breakfast finished, they tidied the camp site, leaving little no trace that they had spent a relatively pleasant evening there.<p>

Shortly after that, they were back in the jeeps, going as quickly as possible to the town where MJ had indicated that the research facility was.

However, that morning, Moffitt found Tully and himself alone in their jeep. It was hardly an unexpected turn of events. Tully at least seemed pleased that MJ had changed her transportation arrangements. Moffitt even caught him whistling under his breath.

''You seem in good spirits today, Tully,'' Moffitt said.

"Yep.''

''Doesn't have anything to do with the fact that you have one less passenger this round, does it?''

Not taking his eyes off the terrain, Tully shrugged.

''You don't like MJ, do you, Tully?''

''Well, I don't know. I guess she's okay.'' For a split second, Tully directed his gaze towards Moffitt. ''But, doesn't she seem a little . . . ? I don't know.''

''What?'' Moffitt listed off the possible adjectives in his head that he would use to describe MJ: Beautiful, accomplished, talented, poised, well educated, intelligent, shapely, funny, kind, and compassionate. Really, in his opinion, any of them would do.

''Too perfect?'' Tully sighed. ''I feel real silly saying it. And I know that all of you guys think that she's the best thing since sliced bread.''

''Is there such a thing?''

Tully cocked an eyebrow at him.

''Not sliced bread, obviously. I mean, a woman that's too perfect?'' Moffitt thought about it. ''Men seek perfection in the female form almost religiously. It's a biological imperative.''

''Kind of how the healthiest heifer always gets chased around by the bull first?''

From behind his goggles, Moffitt blinked. ''Erm, well, yes.''

''You know, my pappy always says that if something seems too good to be true, it probably is.''

Moffitt was left in silence to ponder that.

* * *

><p>''So, you're suggesting that we go in over here?'' MJ pointed to a section of the diagram of the former hospital-turned-laboratory that they were planning to raid.<p>

Troy nodded. ''Yeah, it's probably the weakest area. Look, it's blocked off and isolated, but there's a door right there and the door is not really in a position to be used regularly. So, it's likely not guarded.''

''Hmmm,'' MJ murmured. She squinted at the schematic.

''Something you don't like about the plan, MJ?''

Moffitt was pleased to see that whatever had happened between MJ and Troy the night before, it hadn't changed Troy's dislike of someone questioning his plans. ''It definitely looks like the best choice to me as well, Troy. I completely agree with everything that you said.''

Troy rewarded Moffitt's loyalty with a curt nod. ''That settles it, then. We'll go in through here.'' He tapped the paper with his finger.

MJ shook her head and looked doubtful.

''What? You got a better idea?'' Troy snapped.

''I do have another idea. I was thinking that we'd just walk in through the front door.''

''You're crazy, lady.''

''Perhaps. We'll see.'' MJ gave Troy a cool stare.

Troy ignored her. ''Then, we'll proceed to the upper floors and fan out. You said that you'd recognize the lab when you saw it, MJ?''

MJ didn't take her eyes from the diagram. ''Oh yes. Trust me, it will be hard to miss.''

''And who's this guy that we're going to grab?'' Hitch asked. ''You going to know him when you see him, too?'

''Yes, I will,'' MJ said.

Troy narrowed his eyes. Moffitt knew exactly what Troy was thinking. It was a bad idea to allow any one resource in any raid to carry that much knowledge in their heads without sharing it with the group. What, thought Moffitt, if god forbid something happened to MJ? None of them would have the faintest clue about where to go, what to do, or who to kidnap.

''You wouldn't happen to have a picture, would you, Dr. Knight? At least a good description of the man?'' Moffitt asked. ''It make easier if we split up to accomplish the mission. You know the saying about the dangers of all of the eggs in one basket, I'm sure.''

''No, no picture.'' She tapped the side of her head. ''All up here, I'm afraid. And I could give you a description, but the doctor is pretty non-descript.''

Troy lit a cigarette. ''I'd actually recommend splitting up in order to do this as quickly as possible. One group goes after the virus. The other goes after the doctor.''

''Splitting up is a bad idea. That lab could be potentially crawling with any number of diseases. You could expose yourselves to something deadly and not even know. Until it was too late. And anyway, the doctor is likely to be in the same place as the virus. ''

Troy exhaled a lungful of smoke and made a noise that sounded like a sigh. ''I'm not keen on you going in with us, MJ. It would be better if you just gave us the information that we needed to do the job and let us handle it.''

Tully nodded in agreement.

''What? You expect me to sit in the jeep and wait?'' MJ shook her head. ''No way!''

''You coming with us is a bad idea, MJ.'' Troy's eyes softened. ''What if something happens to you? Who's going to be able to create a vaccine or an antidote?''

''Nothing is going to happen to me, Sam.''

They locked eyes for a moment. Surprisingly, Troy was the first to look away. ''Fine!'' he growled. He jabbed a finger in her direction. ''But if you get yourself killed, don't blame me!''

Considering the gravity of that statement, MJ looked decidedly nonplussed. ''Don't worry about it. After all, if I'm dead, can't imagine that I'd be in much of position to blame anyone for anything.'' She gave Troy a cheeky grin. "I do absolutely and solemnly promise not to come back and haunt you, Sam.''

Troy didn't say anything in return and continued to look grim. Moffitt couldn't blame him. He understood very well that if something happened to MJ, Troy was never going to forgive himself.

And neither, Moffitt knew without a doubt, would he or any of the others.

* * *

><p>The town was small and non-descript. It looked like almost every other Arab town of similar location and size.<p>

The Allies had a presence in the town and as a result, the America jeeps rolling down the narrow streets were not out of place. As they drove down the main street and then cut down one of the side streets, Moffitt thought that things couldn't have seemed easier. In Moffitt's experience, that in itself was a bad omen that something was likely to go wrong. He thought back to his and Tully's brief conversation earlier that morning. If something seemed too good to be true or too easy, it rarely was going to continue on that way. While it was a cynical view, especially for Tully, Moffitt could not deny that from his experience that there was more than a kernel of truth to it all.

Hitch slowed up and parked his jeep. Tully followed suit. Moffitt, from his memory of the diagram of the town's former hospital, recognized the back side of it. He and Tully climbed out the jeep and walked towards Hitch, Troy and MJ.

Pulling a bag from her pack, MJ shuffled through the contents and brought out a black leather case. She flipped it open and Moffitt noticed that it contained very well padded and secure compartments for specimen bottles and smaller test tubes or ampules.

''So, here's the run down again,'' Troy was saying. ''We'll go in through the cellar door. Right there.'' He jerked his head towards the door. ''Then, we'll find the virus, take a sample and whatever MJ thinks that she needs, we'll grab the doctor doing the research, and then we'll be on our way.''

''I think that you're leaving something out, Sarge.'' Hitch pulled something out of his own pack. ''You left out the part around how we're going to blow up the building.'' Like any artist, Hitch looked with true pride at the small but extremely deadly creation.

''Saving the best for last, Hitch! And then, Hitch will set the charge that will destroy the building.'' Troy clapped Hitch on the shoulder. ''Moffitt and Tully, you guys are going to watch each other's backs. MJ and Hitch, you're with me. Whole thing should take about ten minutes, if that.''

''And, if despite Dr. Knight's wishes we get split up, I assume that we'll meet outside of the town?'' MJ gave Moffitt a sharp look. Moffitt held his hands up defensively. ''It's a fair question. The best laid plans of Rats and men aft go awry.''

''Don't adapt Burns quotes for me, Sergeant Moffitt, there's really no need. I agree that there's nothing wrong with planning for a contingency.'' MJ adjusted her pack across her shoulders. ''However, I think it's best if we ensure that we're not going to need one. The stuff that we're messing around with . . .''

''What about it?'' Hitch asked.

MJ sighed. ''Let's just say, even if the best contingency plan, you're still only going to get one chance to get it right. And if we screw it up, you might as well blow us up with the building. Because we're going to likely end up dead any way.''

''Cheerful thought,'' muttered Moffitt. ''Are we ready to go, Troy?''

Nodding, Troy led them to the basement door. There was a steep flight of stairs and one by one they all trooped down them. Effectively hidden from view, Troy worked on the lock. Moffitt and Tully brought up the rear, watching for anyone who happened to be unfortunate enough to choose that particular moment to use that entrance to the building.

''Damn it!'' Troy swore again and then continued to mutter additional comments under his breath.

Moffitt could guess what the words were, even if he couldn't hear them. ''What is it, Troy?'' Moffitt called down, softly.

Troy turned to look at Moffitt and his expression was one of complete disgust. ''The door. It's more than locked. It's bolted and welded shut!''

MJ shrugged. ''I did try to tell you that, right? That this was the wrong entrance to choose? I thought that it might be secured by more than just a lock.''

''Now's not the time for I told you so's, Dr. Knight!'' Troy snarled. Effectively, MJ managed to add kindling to the constantly smoldering fire that was Troy's temper. ''So, since you know everything, what would you like to do?''

''I suggest we go back to my original idea, Sergeant Troy. Walk in through the front door.''

After glaring at her for a few long moments, Troy finally nodded. ''Back the way we came,'' he ordered.

As they made their way back up the stairs, Moffitt smothered his small sense of satisfaction at the fact that the two no longer seemed to be on a first name basis.

* * *

><p>Walking in through the front door of the building had been decidedly easy.<p>

There was an odd absence of the expected German guards . When they had walked by what had appeared to have once been a reception desk and area for triaging patients, it had been empty, as well.

''Are we sure that there's anyone here?'' Hitch asked, looking as perplexed as Moffitt felt. ''The place looks dead.''

Confidently, MJ strode forward to lead the group. ''Who says everything has to be hard, Hitch?''

The little voice, thought Moffitt, inside his head. And it kept saying it. Repeatedly. From looking at Troy, Moffitt could tell that his little voice was duly protesting as well.

Tensed for something, anything, to happen, the four of them followed MJ up the stairway to what was presumably the main floor of the building. When they got closer to the landing, Moffitt could hear voices and activity. Troy turned back to the group and nodded to them, confirming that they had indeed found the right place. As they moved even closer, Moffitt heard people talking about tests, cases, and incubation periods. It made little sense to him, but contextually, it sounded like things that would be said in a medical research facility. His mind on what they were about to do, he thought very little about what he overheard, dismissing it as background noise.

Tully's voice came from behind Moffitt. ''Hey, Sarge? Isn't that French?''

Moffitt listened again as the group stopped right outside of the entrance door. Every word he could hear was indeed in French. He would have expected them to be speaking German. ''It is, Tully.'' Moffitt frowned and tried to remember all of the conversations with MJ that had led them to that point. ''I don't recall that Dr. Knight ever really specifically said that the scientists were German. Most likely they're French Nazi sympathizers.''

Tully didn't look convinced.

Moffitt knew that it really was the only explanation that made any sense at all. ''I guess we'll have to sort that out later. No time for questions now.''

Tully nodded. He and Moffitt followed the rest of the group through the doorway.

It wasn't difficult to Moffitt to identify the doctor that they were supposed to abduct. He was a tall, thin man with wire rimmed spectacles who had the unmistakable air of someone who was in charge. The doctor was standing close to another man and they were consulting over a sheaf of notes.

MJ confirmed Moffitt's hunch. ''That's Dr. Pierre LeFeurve.''

Troy sidled over to the doctor. ''Dr. LeFeurve?''

The man turned to him and looked at Troy. Then he took in the rest of the group of strangers. He stiffened when he noticed that they all had their guns trained on him.

''Yes? May I help you, Sergeant?'' the doctor asked in heavily accented English. He looked at the guns and then at the man beside of him. The doctor swallowed.

''You're coming with us.'' Troy swept his gun from side to side of the room. ''And I'd advise everyone here not to try anything funny. No one is going to get hurt if no one gives us any trouble.''

''This is a medical research facility, Sergeant! How dare you! Do you know what we do here?'' The doctor looked indignant.

''Yes,'' MJ said, ''we do. And we're here to stop it.''

The man who had been speaking with the doctor turned to run. Towards what, Moffitt did not know. He did not get far. As quick as a snake, MJ lunged forward and grabbed the man. With a blow to the back of his neck, he slid to the ground. Moffitt winced on the man's behalf.

''The Sergeant asked quite nicely that there be no trouble. Do your men not speak English, Dr. LeFeurve?'' MJ asked the doctor. ''Stupidité obtiendrez vous Tues!'' she shouted to the room.

Moffitt admired her word choice, straight, simple, and to the point. When everyone in the room raised their hands, it obviously had seemed to have done the trick.

Troy took a hold of the doctor. ''Which way to the lab?''

''You will have to shoot me,'' the doctor said flatly. He looked at MJ. ''I know about you, Dr. Knight. I am not cooperating with you.''

''As you can see, I think that my associates here would be happy to shoot you if need be. If you value your life, I suggest that you rethink your stance on aiding us. You, doctor, are a nice to have, not a need to have. Don't over estimate your own importance.'' MJ looked at Troy. ''The lab is this way.''

Dragging the doctor with them, the four of them followed MJ down the hallway and to a room with a heavy door. MJ turned to the doctor. ''Keys?''

He didn't answer and she reached roughly into the pocket of his lab coat and then not finding what she was after, she reached into his pants pocket. Triumphantly, she withdrew the key and fitted it into the lock.

Covering them, Moffitt waited for the German soldiers to come. Surely, he thought, someone must have sounded some sort of alarm by now. He and Tully stayed in the hallway while Troy, MJ, Hitch, and the doctor went into the lab.

In the few minutes that passed between their entrance into the room and their exit, still no one had come to challenge them. Moffitt began to think that the raid may be the easiest one that the Rat Patrol had ever performed.

The six of them went back down the hallway. They stopped so that Hitch could set the explosive charge.

''Give them enough time to get out of the building Hitch,'' Troy said.

Having already set the timer, Hitch looked up. ''Well, then, they had better start moving now.''

The doctor looked horrified. "You're going to destroy months of our work!'' He looked at Troy. ''Do you really have any idea what you're doing?''

''Yes, we do. '' MJ smiled. "I don't think that the world is ready for your work.''

''Let's round these fellows up, Tully and make sure that they find their way to the door,'' Moffitt said. He looked at Troy. ''I'm sure that you'll be close behind?''

Troy nodded. ''Bet your life on it.''

''Toute le monde! Out! Maintenant!'' Moffitt yelled to the scientists. ''Rapidement, mais calmement!'' He waved his gun towards the exit.

With the explosive timer ticking the seconds away, they needed no other convincing. Moffitt and Tully let the group go past and then followed them down the stairs. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed to Moffitt that Hitch, Troy, MJ, and Dr. LeFeurve were behind them.

The French scientists stood in the street, seemingly dazed. Moffitt decided to give further instruction, just on the odd chance that none of them had figured out that it wasn't the best idea to hang about a building that was going to explode very shortly.

"'Exécutez !'' Moffitt looked at Tully as the group scattered in all directions. ''We'd better follow our own advice.''

' 'If you said 'run', then I'm all for it,'' Tully took off like a hare. Moffitt followed fast on his heels. After a few moments at a dead sprint, they were both hopping into their jeep.

Moffitt looked around for Troy, Hitch, MJ and the doctor. Only Hitch had turned up. ''Erm, Hitch?'' Moffitt asked, worried. ''Where are the others?''

''We're going to have to drive around the front and pick them up. That French doctor had other ideas and ran back into the building. Sarge went in to get him out.''

''Idiots.'' Moffitt would have cheerfully let the doctor meet the same fate as his work. ''Let's go, Tully!''

The two jeeps tore off down the street and around the block.

Thankfully, Moffitt saw the three missing members of their party out in front of the building. It was not lost on him that the doctor was now unconscious. Troy shoved him into an unceremonious pile into the back of his jeep and then hopped into the passenger side. Tully drove forward. Reaching out and grabbing MJ, Moffitt pulled her into the jeep as it rolled by where she was standing.

They raced away from the building, getting just far enough from it, when they heard and felt the explosion.


	5. The Least of All Worries

The bad luck for which Moffitt had been waiting had finally happened.

He sat on the bonnet of his and Tully's jeep and watched as Hitch and Tully examined the damage to the other one. Troy had disappeared up the side of a dune, gun and binoculars in hand, to keep watch.

Dr. LeFeurve appeared to still be unconscious and Troy had moved him from the back of the crippled jeep to the shade beside of Moffitt's. Just in case, Moffitt watched over him, pistol drawn. According to MJ, the man had put up quite a fight back in town, landing an unexpectedly strong blow to Troy's head. As a result, Troy had a rather fetching black eye to show for his trouble and LeFeurve had been knocked cold by the full fury of Troy's rage.

While there was not really anywhere for the man to run at the present moment, based on LeFeurve's past poor judgment, Moffitt suspected that might not stop him from taking off anyway. Moffitt didn't relish the idea of having to chase him through the desert and then having to beat him into submission again. He would have trussed the man up like a turkey if the rope hadn't seemed to have gone missing.

Once again, not the best of luck.

MJ came to stand beside Moffitt. She watched Hitch and Tully's efforts with him in silence. Moffitt was partially surprised that she wasn't attempting to assist them. He grinned faintly at the thought.

''You look slightly amused,'' said MJ. ''I could use some humor right now.''

Moffitt shook his head. ''It's nothing really.'' He looked at MJ. ''I've just been waiting for something to go wrong, that's all. And I suppose that this is it. Though, in the grand scheme of things, it's not the worst thing that could have happened.''

''Not the best, either.''

''No, but it's better than getting shot or captured by the Nazis. Or exposed to some deadly virus. All in all, as I said, certainly not the worst case scenario.'' Moffitt looked down at MJ. She had an uncharacteristically peevish look on her face. ''You look like you disagree, Dr. Knight?''

MJ held up the black leather case that held the virus specimens that she had taken. ''I need to keep this cold. It's going to degrade if stays out in the heat for much longer. The case is insulated, but still, it's not a match for late afternoon in the African desert. And then, I'll just need another specimen to complete my work.''

Moffitt nodded, able to emphathize if thought about MJ's situation in the context of how'd he'd feel if it was him that was about to lose a rare archeological find. Craning his head, he tried to determine Hitch's and Tully's progress. ''If it's any consolation, it shouldn't be much longer now. We can be on our way again.'' He looked down at the black case that MJ was holding with the gentleness and care with which one would hold a baby. ''How do you get an ideal sample? I'm afraid that I'm not familiar.''

"From the blood of someone who has been infected. This sample was taken from someone when the disease was at its peak. Shortly after that, it starts to mutate itself and it's useless for research.'' MJ shrugged. ''The only way to get another sample that was truly useful would be to infect someone and let it reach exactly that point again,'' she said, her voice clinical and detached.

Moffitt nodded. ''I see. Well, then, I suppose that we'd better take good care of the samples that you managed to get, then.''

''Yes, that's the preferred course of action.''

''Fascinating, really,'' Moffitt said and meaning it. ''It is very interesting work that you do, Dr. Knight. I wish that I knew more about it.''

With some of her good humor appearing to return, MJ smiled up at Moffitt. ''You know, I have another bottle of whiskey. Even better than what we had last night. If you wanted to stop by my tent later, I would be happy to tell you about it until you were begging for mercy, Sergeant.''

There was something about the way that MJ had said the last bit and the way that she was looking at him that made Moffitt's mind go completely blank. Moffitt found himself almost stuttering when he tried to speak. Finally, he stopped himself and took a deep breath. Then he took another moment to think about what he wanted to say. ''I would think that you might have plans with Troy tonight. I wouldn't want to impose.''

''What would make you think that, Jack?'' MJ narrowed her eyes at him.

Moffitt felt his face growing hot. ''Erm . . .'' He found that he was back to almost stuttering again. ''Well, I thought . . .'' He thought back to when he awoke to find MJ curled around Troy. ''You and Troy?''

Laughing and clutching the case to her chest, it was MJ's turn to take a moment to collect herself. ''Oh, you saw us last night? I was freezing to death. After Sam fell asleep, I thought crawling over next to him might keep me warm. He wasn't complaining. I think that he felt sorry for me.''

Moffitt somehow doubted that sorry had been what Troy was feeling, but wisely kept his comments to himself. ''I see.''

MJ shrugged. "Invitation is open. Up to you, Jack.''

Suddenly, Moffitt found himself very much wanting Tully and Hitch to hurry up.

Troy appeared over the dune. ''We're going to get company,'' he yelled.

''Well,'' Moffitt said dryly, hopping down from the bonnet of the jeep, ''we are obviously paying double for every bit of our previous good luck.''

''Germans?'' MJ asked.

''Judging from the expression on Troy's face, yes.'' Moffitt handed MJ his pistol. ''Watch our friend, Dr. LeFeurve, will you, MJ?''

''With pleasure.''

* * *

><p>Moffitt walked over to where Troy was surveying Tully and Hitch's progress. "I take it that we have univited company.''<p>

''Yep.'' Troy was sucking the life out of a cigarette with grim determination.

''How far out, Troy?'' Moffitt asked.

''About 10 minutes.'' Troy shook his head. ''And Hitch is saying twenty to fix this mess.''

''What now?''

''I don't know. I mean, it's some tanks, a truck, and a couple of half tracks. With two jeeps, we could easily outrun them. With one jeep and six people, no way.'' Troy put his hands on his hips and jerked his head towards MJ. ''And I don't know about you, but I don't particularly want to get caught in a fire fight with her carrying around what she's carrying.''

Moffitt nodded. ''One stray bullet, and all of the sudden, Jerry is the least of our worries.''

''Exactly.''

''Well,'' Moffitt said slowly, ''you and I could go out in one jeep, distract them, perhaps do some damage. Tully and Hitch could finish their work and we could meet back up with them.''

''Yeah, we could. Or we could just stay hunkered down here. We've got good coverage.'' Troy looked around at the dunes that surrounded them. ''We're not really on the beaten path. If we were, that jeep would still be running.''

''Do you think that they're looking for us? Are they coming from the direction of the town?'' Moffitt knew that blowing up a building in which the Germans had a vested interest was hardly a way to keep a low profile.

''No, that's the weird thing. They're coming from the same direction we came from, going towards the town. Exactly opposite of the way that we're going now. They're probably just going into the town for supplies.'' Troy looked at his watch. ''Eight minutes now,'' he called out.

''About fifteen until we're done, Sarge,'' Hitch answered from beneath the jeep.

Troy stood, squinting off into the horrizon, considering. ''I think that we should just stay here, try to keep a low profile. I'll keep watching them. If they do get too close, you and I can go out and try to buy some more time for Hitch and Tully, like you suggested.''

''Sounds good, Troy.'' Moffitt didn't disagree that it was good of a plan as any. And, if their luck from earlier happened to reappear, they'd be safe as houses. Moffitt frowned. He realized that it was a rather big ''if.''

Troy was frowning, too. Inaction was hardly his style, Moffitt knew. Troy looked angrily over at MJ as if blaming her for their unfortunate predicament. His eyes went to the empty holster on Moffitt's hip.

''You gave her your gun?'' Troy did not look pleased.

To avoid the evil look Troy was giving him, Moffitt looked back in MJ's direction. She had taken up his perch and was holding the gun on LeFeurve.

''Well, you heard Dietrich yesterday. She obviously knows how to use a weapon.'' Moffitt shrugged. ''The man is out cold anyway. You must have really laid into him.'' He looked at Troy's black eye. ''I'm sure that he was hardly on your good side by that point.''

''I hit him probably harder than I needed to,'' Troy admitted, his hand going to the swelling on his face. "And maybe a couple more times than I needed to.''

''He bloody well deserved it for being an idiot, if you ask me. MJ seems to have him well in hand, though.''

''She's a civilian, Moffitt. And you let her have your gun. Do you really think that's wise?''

''Probably not.'' Moffitt sighed. ''I'll go reclaim my weapon and ensure that Dr. LeFeurve doesn't attempt to run off again.''

''Yeah. And I'm going back up there to see how all of this plays out.'' Troy jerked his head back up at the top of the dune. ''I'll be back down if things are going south.''

Moffitt nodded. He could almost hear the dull noise of the column approaching them.

Troy turned. ''And watch that guy. He's got a hell of a right hook for a scientist.''

* * *

><p>When their luck had run out, it really had done so in a spectacular fashion, Moffitt thought.<p>

And it had run out at exactly the point where everything was once again looked as if it was going their way. The convoy had passed them by without any disturbance. Troy had just reappeared at the top of the dune flashing them a smile and a ''thumbs up'' signal. Tully had crawled from under the jeep, as had Hitch, and both had been grinning from ear to ear.

''We're ready to move, Sarge,'' Hitch said while dusting himself.

MJ, sitting beside of Moffitt, nudged him. ''How does 2100 sound to you, Jack?''

Moffitt had almost been ready to give a response to the offer in the affirmative.

And at that point, LeFeurve took it upon himself to get up from beside the jeep, grab the black case containing the virus from MJ and to take off like a gazelle across the desert.

''Bloody hell!'' Moffitt said. In a few seconds, he was in hot pursuit of the doctor, trying to stop him before he got up and over the dune and into the sight of the German panzer column. Moffitt got close enough to grab the man's ankle. In response, the damned man kicked him in the head. While Moffitt barely noticed any pain from the impact, the shock was enough to cause him to let go.

''Troy!'' Moffitt yelled as the doctor managed to get to his feet and run. "Coming your way!''

Troy looked like he could barely restrain himself from shooting LeFeurve. ''He's going to get us all killed!''

Tully and Hitch had, by that time, also scrambled up the dune after the wayward doctor. MJ, of course, was not far behind them. They all crested the dune, with LeFeurve in the lead. Once on the other side, LeFeurve had had the fortune to fall down the dune the rest of the way. It gave him yet more of a lead on his pursuers who had been more careful. Moffitt held his breath as he waited to see if the black case had remained intact after the doctor's tumble to the bottom. It had. Moffitt finally exhaled. The man got to his feet and ran out into the desert and towards the column, still carrying the case.

''Arrêter, idiot!'' MJ yelled at LeFeurve as she scrambled after him.

''Everyone, stop chasing him!'' Troy ordered. "'We're making a spectacle of ourselves! The Krauts may not notice one guy, but they're definitely going to notice all of us running after him!''

Tully, Hitch and Moffitt complied. It became apparent that MJ did not listen well as she continued to run after LeFeurve. Right at that moment, it also became apparent that the German column had swung back around and was coming directly towards them.

''Moffitt!'' Troy yelled. ''Grab Dr. Knight and I'll grab Dr. LeFeurve.'' He snapped his head back to Tully and Hitch. ''Swing wide and meet us at the bottom of the dunes on the other side.''

Moffitt nodded and half ran, half fell, down the dune towards MJ who was still doggedly chasing LeFeurve. Neither of them seemed to notice that they were running right towards the German column. Moffitt certainly did.

''Dr. Knight! Stop!'' he yelled. If MJ heard him, she was doing a wonderful job of ignoring him. Out of the corner of his eye, Moffitt saw Troy still running towards his target. ''Dr. Knight! Stop!'' Moffitt tried yelling again.

When she didn't do as much as turn her head, Moffitt gritted his teeth. With some unexpectedly hard packed surface under his feet and a final burst of speed, he caught up to MJ and lunged forward to catch her. They both fell to the ground in a heap. Moffitt had been careful to grab her so that she landed on top of him and not the other way around. She was, he thought, heavier than she looked. She was also angrier than he thought that she would have been.

''Jack, you stupid bastard! I had almost caught him!'' MJ punched Moffitt in the ribs in her frustration.

Moffitt found that her blow had been decidedly more painful than the kick that LeFeurve had delivered to his head. It took a bit of his restraint not to let on that it had actually hurt. He focused on getting her to her feet and continuing to hold on to her.

In a spray of sand, Tully pulled the jeep up beside of them. Moffitt dragged MJ into the back and held onto her. It was rather, thought Moffitt, like trying to hold onto a live fish.

''Drive, Tully!'' Moffitt yelled.

The jeep didn't move.

"Damn it to hell, Tully! Please tell me that this bloody jeep isn't broken down again. Move it!''

''Sarge . . .'' Tully was looking at something.

''Drive, I said!''

''Um, Sarge?''

''What is it?'' Moffitt followed Tully's gaze. ''Oh for goodness sakes! What on Earth is he doing out here?'' A Kubelwagon had apparently been hidden from view by the column. It had broken free and was now parked beside of where Troy was holding LeFeurve.

''Dietrich,'' Tully said, with a shake of his head and a sigh.

It was indeed Dietrich and Dietrich's little blond second. They both had their guns drawn and trained on Troy. LeFeurve seemed to be a bit of an afterthought for them, but regardless, he was standing there with the group. They all appeared to be staring at something on the ground.

Hitch pulled up beside of Tully. He squinted. ''Is that Dietrich?''

''Yes, of course it is. And he's got Troy and LeFeurve.'' Moffitt shook his head. Dietrich was a damned nuisance. It had ceased to surprise Moffitt that the man always happened to show up at the worst possible place and time.

''Well,'' said Hitch, putting the jeep in gear, ''let's go get them!''

Moffitt nodded to Tully to follow. He looked down at MJ. ''Are you going to behave long enough to let me do my job?''

''Yes, if it means getting Troy, LeFeurve, and the virus back.'' MJ glared up at Moffitt.

''I'm so very glad that we agree.'' Moffitt swung himself up to man the Browning.

The column had almost caught up to Dietrich. Moffitt decided that they literally had minutes to grab Troy and LeFeurve. Tully and Hitch drove closer.

Troy's head snapped up. He waved both of his hands above his head and appeared to be yelling something. Moffitt had no earthly idea what he was saying over the noise of the jeep and the approaching column. Moffitt then noticed that Dietrich looked to be fiddling with the car's radio and yelling orders.

''Sarge?'' Tully yelled. ''What's going on?''

''Not sure. Get a bit closer.'' Moffitt squinted at the tableau before them. He really had no clue what they were all doing. The column, surprisingly enough, had stopped in its tracks. Even more surprisingly, it began to retreat. Troy almost looked like a madman, jumping up and down and waving his arms. Moffitt finally realized what Troy was saying.

It was ''stop.''

''Tully!'' Moffitt yelled. ''Pull up!'' He looked towards Hitch and gestured for him to stop, as well. The jeeps rolled a few more feet and came to a halt.

"What is it?'' Hitch asked. ''Why is the column turning around again?''

A soft breeze signifying the coming of the evening blew across the sand. It was eerily quiet.

''Tully, hand me the binoculars.'' Moffitt took the binoculars and looked over in the direction of Troy and Dietrich. If he craned his neck at just the right angle, he could see over the Kubelwagon and at what they were looking at on the ground. He lowered the binoculars and swallowed.

MJ stood up in the jeep, climbing up next to Moffitt. ''Jack? What's going on? I can't see anything.'' She made a move to grab the binoculars from him. Moffitt pulled them away from her reach, holding them over his head. MJ was, not surprisingly, protesting loudly that he wouldn't give her binoculars. Moffitt barely registered it. The hairs had pricked up on the back of Moffitt's neck and there was a sick feeling in his stomach.

With a feigned casualness, he looked at MJ. ''How does that virus that you're studying travel, anyway?''

MJ shrugged. ''It's airborne. Pretty standard transmission method.'' She reached again for the binoculars. "I want to see what's going on out there.''

''How far can it travel?'' Moffitt ground out. He moved to grab her arm but stopped, forcing himself to be calm. ''How far? With a light breeze blowing like it is right now?''

''I don't know. It could potentially infect any human in a half mile radius. Probably less, definitely not more.'' She stood on her toes and looked in the direction of Troy and Dietrich, still trying in vain to see what was going on in front of them. ''What is it?''

''I see.'' Moffitt eyed the distance between his jeep and Dietrich's Kubelwagon. He would guess that it was between a quarter mile and a half mile. ''What if you were standing right on top of it or within say, a quarter of a mile?''

''You'd have around a 98% chance of infection at close range. About a 40% chance at a quarter mile and about 1% at a half mile.'' MJ grabbed for the binoculars again.

''I see.'' Moffitt let her have them. He watched her try to get the angle that she needed to see exactly what was hidden from view by the Kubelwagon. He didn't need the binoculars to see Troy looking back at him, still shaking his head.

''I can't see anything,'' MJ muttered. ''Too short.'' She lowered the binoculars. ''Please don't tell me that what I think has happened has happened.''

''I think that it has.'' Moffitt looked at Hitch and Tully. ''Can one of you use the radio to contact Dietrich?''

''Radio?'' Tully looked at Moffitt like he was mad.

''Dietrich?'' asked Hitch, also looking like he couldn't quite comprehend what Moffitt was asking.

Moffitt blinked at them. He wondered if he had forgotten himself and was speaking a language other than English. ''Yes, the radio and yes, Dietrich. Use one of the German channels. I want to make sure that Dietrich hears you calling him.''

Hitch nodded and got out of his jeep and went around the back. ''Captain Dietrich? Come in, Captain Dietrich?''

Moffitt could imagine Dietrich jumping with surprise at the squawk of his name across the radio. He watched with binoculars as Dietrich moved to answer the call. Troy's head moved, most likely at the sound of Hitch's voice.

''This is Hauptmann Dietrich.'' Dietrich's voice came through the radio. "Over.''

Moffitt climbed out of the back of the jeep and went over to Hitch. He nudged him out of the way and took the receiver. ''Herr Hauptmann, this is Sergeant Jack Moffitt. Troy, what's happened? Over.''

''Moffitt! Stay put!'' Troy's voice crackled across the radio. ''The virus. LeFeurve dropped the virus. Right here at our feet. Over.''

''Understood. We won't come any closer. Over.'' Moffitt sagged momentarily against the jeep. Tully and Hitch were looking at him with stricken expressions. It was enough to make Moffitt straighten his posture and put on his best stiff upper lip.

The radio burst into life. It was Dietrich again. ''Sergeant, Dr. LeFeurve tells us that we're likely contaminated. Over.''

Moffitt looked up at MJ. He motioned for her to come down and offered her his hand. Taking it, she stepped down off the side of the jeep. Moffitt handed her the receiver and nodded for her to go ahead.

''It's true. You are. We're going to have to get you all somewhere where you can get treatment.''

There was a silence and then, Troy's voice again. ''Dr. LeFeurve tells us that there is no treatment. Over.''

MJ's mouth had set in a determined line. ''I can find one.''

''I hope so,'' came Troy's voice, empty and hollow. ''And by the way, he had some interesting things to say about you too, Dr. Knight. But, I think that we can talk about that later. Over.''

* * *

><p>Moffitt had contacted Boggs by radio to let him know of their predicament and their location. MJ had given Boggs information about what would need to be done to decontaminate the area of the desert and a list of needed supplies.<p>

Boggs had sounded as shocked as Moffitt felt.

It was not every day, Moffitt was sure, that Boggs got the news that one of his best and brightest, along with one of Germany's most capable, had been served what amounted to an effective death warrant. And then, the news that the rest of them were also potentially infected had likely been the icing on the cake. Moffitt had choked slightly when relaying the information about Hitch's and Tully's potential exposure. He thought that there might have been answering catch in Boggs' voice.

Message delivery complete and fate potentially sealed, Moffitt started to plot a route towards the location where Boggs had recommended that they set up camp.

Before leaving, Moffit used his limited knowledge of the tribes that lived in that particular part of the desert and had done his best to place warnings to stay away from the area until the decontamination could be completed.

The drive back across the desert had been somber and quiet. MJ had gone with Hitch and Moffitt was in his customary place beside of Tully. The other four traveled about a mile behind them in Dietrich's Kubelwagon. Moffitt could well imagine the atmosphere in that vehicle.

It was almost ironic, thought Moffitt, that Troy and Dietrich, the most mortal of enemies were sitting together in the back of the car as close as comrades. Moffitt supposed that it wouldn't be the first time that the two of them had let their adversarial relationship drop in favor of a truce when the odds were equally against them both. Moffitt actually suspected that the Troy and Dietrich, in the right circumstances, might even be given to like each other. If all things were equal and the war had been removed from the equation, the two might just hit it off. Moffitt hoped that his hunch was right.

If not, it was going to be a bloody pain in the arse if all of the patients were trying to kill each other while quarantined.


	6. The Enemy of My Enemy

When they had finally reached the area that Boggs had selected for their quarantine, Moffitt, MJ, Tully, and Hitch had worked to set up the camp as best as they could.

Boggs had only managed to send two large tents and another small one. It was quickly decided that one would be used to house MJ and her research and then that the other large tent to be used as an infirmary for those infected. The smallest would be used to house those not ill. It was not lost on Moffitt that the smallest tent was only big enough for two, while the larger tent would comfortably hold them all.

Moffitt didn't know whether he should blame that on the deficiencies in supply chain or a lack of optimism on the part of Boggs. Moffitt had to admit that he was feeling less than optimistic himself. If the others had noticed or even felt the same way, they did not let it affect their duties. With the tents set up, MJ began to go through her supplies to order her makeshift lab. Digging through the last crate, MJ brought out a collection of surgical masks and gloves.

Moffitt raised an eyebrow at her.

''Put them on. We may not be infected. And, if you don't breath the virus when in contact with the infected or get it on your skin when you touch them, you'll most likely be all right,'' MJ told him.

''Most likely? Well, I suppose that's something.'' Moffitt was not sure that it was enough.

MJ sighed. ''That's the best I can do, Jack. I don't know for sure. ''

''Invokes a certain amount of confidence, that statement does.'' Moffitt passed masks and gloves to Hitch and Tully. They looked at them with distaste. ''Put them on,'' Moffitt ordered. To ensure that he was serving as a good role model, he did the same.

Tully and Hitch obeyed. Their eyes, peering over their masks, made it clear to Moffitt that they were not happy about it.

MJ turned to reach into the box again. This time, she brought out a jug of antiseptic wash and also some additional clothing. ''The most contagious thing about them right now is their clothing and that car because of the high concentration of spores that were in that specimen bottle. They're going to need to bathe in this.'' She held up the jug. ''Diluted in about 10 gallons of water.''

Moffitt frowned. ''I know that they did bring water, but I'm not sure that we have enough for all of that.''

''Doesn't matter. They can bring us more water if we need it. This has to be done.''

Hitch took the jug. He looked at Tully. ''Let's go find something to use as a tub and then let's mix up a batch. Rubba dub dub, four men in a tub.''

''If you could set up it up more than half mile away from here, that would be excellent.'' MJ stuck her head in the crate again.

Moffitt nodded. Dietrich and Troy and their party had stopped about a mile outside of the camp and were waiting for instructions. He looked at Tully and Hitch. ''Line one of those big crates with one of the jeep covers, they're mostly waterproof. That will likely do to hold the water in.''

''Yep.'' Tully nodded and he and Hitch were on their way.

''After they decontaminate themselves,'' MJ said, ''then they need to burn the clothing that they have on and then the Kubelwagon.''

Moffitt removed his mask and gloves. ''The boys will leave one of the jeeps between here and there so that they don't have to walk in. I'll radio out and tell Troy where to find it. I'll also let them know about the bath that they'll need to take, as well. I'm sure that they'll be thrilled with it all.'' He picked up the spare clothing as an afterthought and bundled it up, stuffing it into a duffle bag. ''And we'll leave the clothes as well, with the tub. Don't want them driving about starkers, do we now? Hope we've gotten everyone's size right.''

''I am sure that regardless of the size, they'll just be glad to have some clothing,'' said MJ evenly, ''and if not, they'll all get over it. It will all be fine.''

''Let's hope so. That's the goal, right?''

* * *

><p>Work done and with nothing else to occupy his mind, Moffitt sat with his head in his hands thinking about how truly awful the situation was.<p>

MJ came over to him carrying a stainless steel tray and a small basin. She sat it down with a clank beside of him. Moffitt looked up at her.

''That gash, in your forehead, I need to clean it up and then cover it.''

He had noticed that he had a headache but hadn't thought much about it. After all, he had gotten kicked in the face by LeFeurve and then there was everything else, so it was to be expected. Moffitt put his fingers to his forehead. There was indeed a break in the skin there.

''Don't you have other more pressing things to worry about than a scratch?'' Moffitt asked her. He looked at his fingers. The wound wasn't even bleeding. He imagined he'd gotten enough sweat, dirt, and sand in it to clot it nicely. It hardly seemed serious enough to require any medical attention.

''Any kind of break in the skin can make you more susceptible to the virus."

''Isn't it a bit late to worry about that?''

''Well, perhaps, but there is a chance that you haven't been infected yet. But if you want to be around Troy and the others when they come back, we probably should take care of it. What if you were to touch something that was infected and then touched your head? '' MJ tilted Moffitt's chin up and began to swab the wound with what Moffitt presumed was some sort of antiseptic.

It stung. Moffitt made a face and a small sound of discomfort. ''It hurts more now than it did before.''

''Things that are good for you are rarely pleasant, Jack. Our parents were right.'' Wound cleaned, MJ studied it. ''You could probably do with a few stitches, actually, now that I look at it.''

''Really, now! Can't you just slap a plaster on it and be done with it?''

''No. I'm a doctor. Trust me.''

That particular phrase made Moffitt frown. ''Troy mentioned that LeFeurve had told him something about you. You know him, don't you? Or at the very least he recognized you?''

MJ concentrated on threading a length of cat gut through a needle. ''He recognized me, yes.'' She tilted Moffitt's head up again. ''Try to stay still. That means no talking."

Moffitt complied.

''And no expressive eyebrows.'' MJ tapped him under the chin.

Even with his rather impressive history of needing medical attention of one form or another, the feeling of needle and thread through his skin still always unnerved Moffitt. Despite MJ's original diagnosis, she put more than what felt like just a few stitches into the wound. She swabbed additional antiseptic on the wound before covering it with gauze pad which she finally covered with a plaster.

''All done, Jack,'' she told him, touching him on the cheek. ''Remember to keep it covered.''

Moffitt let out a breath that he hadn't realized that he had been holding. ''So, back to the original topic. LeFeurve knows you. What do you think that he told Troy about you?''

''Is it that important? What an idiot who may have gotten us all killed said?'' She turned her back, tidying her supplies.

''I suppose that it depends on what he had to say,'' Moffitt said slowly to MJ's back. ''And considering that we all may be stuck alone out here for quite some time, I think that it may be a good idea if you went ahead and told me. No nasty surprises that way. After all, he's already told Troy and Dietrich.''

''And I'm sure that Troy will tell you.'' MJ turned. ''Bottom line is Jack, that it really doesn't matter, does it? We've all got one hope here and it's me. Does anything that LeFeurve has to say change that?''

Moffitt thought about that. He did not suppose that it did. But, it didn't stop him from wanting to know exactly what MJ did not want him to know. The fact that she was so unwilling to share didn't help to lay his curiosity to rest.

''Wouldn't you like to tell at least one person your side of the story first?'' Moffitt raised an eyebrow at her and he felt his stitches pull. He winced.

''I told you not to do that.'' MJ clucked her tongue at him as she smoothed the plaster back down. ''But something tells me that the only person that you probably really listen to is Sam Troy.''

Moffitt shrugged. ''Not even him, sometimes. Drives Troy around the bend.''

''I'm sure. I've already been witness to what happens when someone questions his plans. Doesn't seem to like it, does he?''

''No, not at all. He also doesn't like it when something is represented to him wasn't true. That's where we're going here, isn't it?'' Moffitt stood up and took MJ's arms. ''LeFeurve knows something about you that makes you not as quite as perfect as you seem.''

''Really? You think that I'm perfect?'' MJ's eyes narrowed and she smirked as she put her hands on his shoulders. "What a lovely thing to say, Jack.''

''Too good to be true, perhaps.'' Moffitt thought again of Tully's assessment of MJ. ''What are you hiding, Dr. Knight?''

''What are you hiding, Sergeant Moffitt? After all, everyone is hiding something,'' MJ countered, her arms now looped around Moffitt's neck.

''I'm not hiding much. I find that it's hardly worth the effort.''

MJ pressed closer to Moffitt. "Perhaps you'd like me to be the judge of that, Jack? I think that maybe it's you that isn't being truthful now."

When he got her double meaning, Moffitt felt the heat start in his cheeks and move to his hairline. He was not at the moment hiding very well that he didn't have nearly enough opportunity to spend time in the close proximity of an attractive woman.

''I suppose it all depends on what you're hiding and why you're hiding it, right?'' MJ's hands slid up the back of his neck.

''Touché. Which is likely why you should tell me what your secret is.'' Moffitt took in a deep breath as her fingers threaded themselves into his hair. He looked up at the tent's ceiling. ''I certainly hope that you don't think that you're distracting me from my train of thought, Dr. Knight.''

A wicked look crossed her face. ''Oh, I think that I probably am. But, something does tell me that no matter what I do, what we do, you're not going to let this go, are you?''

''No. And even if I was willing to, trust me, Troy won't let it go. He's not easily distracted by any stretch of the imagination.''

''Yes, I've found that out. And it wasn't from lack of trying,'' Moffitt thought he heard MJ mutter.

He blinked at her, still not quite certain what she had said. "Pardon?''

Suddenly, MJ pulled away from Moffitt. Moffitt's body mourned the loss but his brain told him that it was for the best. He waited.

''I met LeFeurve a year ago. I took something from him. Something that he'd worked very hard on. He wasn't very pleased about it. I imagine that's what he told Troy.'' MJ sat down on the stool and looked up at Moffitt. "But he had even bigger plans for this virus, Jack. Huge, far reaching plans, and I, we, wrecked them. I imagine that he's angry enough to say anything right now.''

''And so we took LeFeurve's work. And if your earlier story still holds true, then he was working with the virus to make it a deadly weapon. Which, I'm sure that he promised to the German war effort.''

''Yes, he did a lot of work on it to make it more deadly. It would be a very effective weapon. It's hardy, highly contagious. It has an excellent survival rate without a host and has high radius of penetration. And then, under the right conditions, the pure form of the spores like the one specimen that we took today can travel a distance to infect a victim. Which makes it deadlier yet if released in any kind of populated area.''

The idea of releasing a virus to kill one's enemy was repugnant to Moffitt. Weren't guns and bombs damaging enough, he wondered, without having to resort to biology? ''LeFeurve is working for the Nazis, then?'' After the man had run straight for them, hadn't he, with the samples that MJ had collected. Moffitt didn't need much more convincing than that of on which side the good doctor's loyalties fell.

MJ shook her head. "Actually, no, he's not.''

Moffitt looked at her sharply, positive that he'd heard her wrong. "What?''

'He's working for the Free French.'' MJ smiled faintly. ''LeFeurve hates Nazis. I'm sure that his hatred of Germans is going to make things interesting with him and Dietrich and Bader in the same small space. We'll probably want to watch that.''

Holding up a hand, Moffitt stopped the conversation. ''Wait just a moment! We blew up a research facility that wasn't associated with the Nazis? But instead, the Free French? '' Moffitt's head was aching again, though he wasn't really certain that it had ever stopped.

''Yes, that's effectively what we did. You were there.''

''So, let me get this straight. He ran towards the Germans out in the desert because he hates them? That makes no sense.''

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Moffitt suddenly got it. Troy said the LeFeurve had dropped the virus spores, though he hadn't said how or why. Moffitt had assumed that it had been an accident. Now he began to suspect that it was not. It had been a willful act and the intended target of infection wasn't Troy, it was Dietrich and his men. Tory merely happened to be collateral damage.

''Oh, '' Moffitt said. "I think that I see.''

MJ nodded. "Suicidal, but sacrificing one's self to rid the world of several dozen of Bosch is likely considered to be a hero's death. Especially if they could spread the virus to more Germans.''

Something else also suddenly occurred to Moffitt. He rounded on MJ and looked at her hard. ''And what about you, Dr. Knight? Are you working for the Germans?'' Moffitt's hand went as imperceptibly as possible towards his gun holster.

''Not today, Sergeant Moffitt.'' MJ gave Moffitt an odd look before her eyes came to focus on the new position of his right hand. ''Don't get excited and jump to any conclusions which might result in you shooting me. I'm here at the request of Winston Churchill himself. That's what impressed your Captain Boggs so much. And that's why your patrol was assigned to help me. You came very highly recommended, you know. You four have certainly built up quite the reputation for yourselves. You should be proud.''

Moffitt ignored the compliment with little effort, his mind still trying to work out why MJ thought that all of this should make sense. ''But, the Free French would be considered our Allies. Why would the English government ask you, us, to attack them?''

''Some of the Free French are crazy, Jack. Especially one particular arm of them, they're radicals. DeGaul encourages them, brags about them to the other Allied leaders. Though, why he's proud of them, I'm not sure. They'd kill twenty innocent people to kill five Germans.''

''Vive la France,'' Moffitt muttered. He'd seen some of the more radical French forces when the French underground had helped him to get back to England after Dunkirk. They had made him nervous.

''LeFeurve is Free French, one of their most radical members. He created this virus in order to attack the Germans with it in France,'' MJ said.

''That hardly sounds prudent. Effective, yes, prudent, no. Wouldn't that have the potential to kill innocent people? The Allies or even French civilians?'' Moffitt's head was throbbing by this point.

''Exactly. This virus has an incubation period of a few days at the longest. Then, it continues to be contagious while the infected have the fever. People move around a lot in a war, Jack, from town to town, from country to country. The penetration range of the virus could be incredible.''

Moffitt tried to imagine what would happen if the deadly disease was unleashed in the wrong place and within a large enough population. He quickly realized that it wasn't anything that he really wanted to picture. It would likely make the Black Plague pale in comparison, spreading across Europe like wildfire. And with air travel, it would likely move to infect the Americas, Africa and everywhere in between with the same quickness.

"'Not to mention that LeFeurve managed to create the virus, but not a cure or a vaccine. He has a very bad habit of that, which is how I ended up meeting him the first time.'' MJ frowned. ''The Allied powers that be, especially Churchill as France is your neighbor, weren't interested at all in leaving anything to chance. They support Free France, but not at the risk of the loss of Allied lives.''

''And you were to take the virus to find a cure?'' Moffitt felt that certain things that had seemed like truths previously now needed restating.

''I was to destroy LeFeurve's work. Which we did a very nice job of, by the way. But I was also asked to take a sample of the virus just in case he'd managed to send his work to the Resistance in France, cure or no cure, with or without the foresight to create a vaccine. There were rumors that DeGaul had a sample that he was bragging about to some of the other Allied leaders. Called it his 'Bosch Extermination Plan.'''

''And Winnie head that and didn't care much for it, I imagine.''

''Yep, that's right. I do really think that there are more samples of the virus and spores out there. If not, I don't think that LeFeurve would have wasted the last known sample on Hauptmann Dietrich and his men. '' MJ looked around her make shift laboratory. "This makes finding a vaccine and a cure even more important. With that sample, I was going to work to find just that. Which in turn, I'd provide to the Allies.'' She looked around them in disbelief. "I never dreamed that it would be in these circumstances, though.''

''Yes, it's a bit do or die now, isn't it?'' After the words had left his mouth, Moffitt regretted his own unfortunate turn of phrase.

''Exactly. Speaking of which . . .'' MJ turned and put on another pair of gloves and picked up a band of tubing.

Moffitt watched as MJ rolled up her sleeve and wrapped the length of rubber around her bicep. She caught the one end in her teeth and pulled it to tighten it. Picking up some gauze, she dampened it in iodine and swabbed the crook of her arm. Moffitt was shocked when MJ picked up a syringe. He tried not to be squeamish as she plunged the needle into the crook of her arm. The syringe filled quickly with bright red blood.

''You're doing that to yourself?'' Moffitt asked her, incredulously.

Withdrawing the needle and then quickly removing the tubing, MJ looked at him. ''You would have done it?'' She cocked her head at him before reaching for a piece of cotton wool and a plaster. ''Actually, you look a little pale, Jack. Don't like the sight of blood?''

''Bothers me more to see it when it's someone else's.''

MJ stripped off one pair of gloves and put on another. She picked up another syringe. ''Well, I'm glad that it won't bother you when I take yours.'' Reaching for the iodine and the gauze again, she turned her back to Moffitt. ''Roll up your sleeve, Jack.'' She waited while Moffitt did as he was told. MJ prepared his arm and then slid the needle into the vein. ''I need a sample of your blood. I want to see if you're infected. I'll get Hitch and Tully and the others when they come back.''

''You'll be able to tell now? That quickly?''

"Yes, the virus is very aggressive.''

Moffitt watched as MJ withdrew a tube of blood and then was done with him as quickly as she had started. ''You're very good at that you know, I barely felt anything.''

''Thanks, in my line of work, I've had lots of practice. And you're a good bleeder.''

Moffitt pulled a face. ''Thanks. In my line of work, I've had lots of practice.''

''Well, that's unfortunate, but not surprising.'' MJ applied a plaster and a gob of cotton wool to the crook of Moffitt's arm. She pushed his forearm up and parallel to his upper arm. ''Hold that there for a while.''

Moffitt once again did as he was directed and watched MJ smear something from a vial and then her own blood on a slide. He watched as she covered the slide and then put it under a microscope. She nodded her head and then repeated the actions again, this time with Moffitt's blood.

Moffitt again found himself holding his breath. When she looked up, he exhaled. ''Well?'' he asked her, not sure if he wanted to know the diagnosis.

''So far, so good, Jack. I'd say that you're going to be fine. Make sure that if you go around Sam and the others that you wear your mask and gloves. I'll get another sample from you in 24 hours, just to be sure.''

Relief washed over Moffitt before he squashed it. A feeling of guilt replaced the relief. ''And you?'' he asked MJ.

''I'm fine, as well.''

* * *

><p>When Moffitt had radioed out and given Troy the order to strip and wash, Troy had sounded less than enthusiastic about the instructions.<p>

When Troy had relayed the message about burning the Kubelwagon to Dietrich, Moffitt could tell that Dietrich had been even less pleased. He had no trouble hearing and understanding the string of German curses in the background. But, as they had arrived back to their make shift camp in the second jeep and in their ill fitting clothing, they had all obviously complied with MJ's orders.

When the new arrivals had settled into their tent, MJ had come in with Moffitt as her aide to draw blood from Troy, Bader, Dietrich and LeFeurve. It had initially made Moffitt's stomach flip a bit, but, by the time that she had finished with the first man, he found that it hardly bothered him. With a strange detachment, Moffitt labeled each of the vials of the blood with the name of a man that he knew, like he was labeling bits of pottery uncovered at a dig.

Science, Moffitt supposed, was science no matter what the discipline.

* * *

><p>Finished, MJ had taken the vials of neatly labeled blood back to the other tent. Moffitt had stayed behind.<p>

For men that could be facing death, Moffitt thought that they all seemed rather calm. Troy had lain back on his bunk, smoking. Dietrich was lamenting, in German, to Bader about all of the paperwork that was going to be involved in getting yet another Kubelwagon. LeFeurve had appeared to be taking a nap.

Perhaps, Moffitt thought, it just hadn't sunk in as of yet for them that their lives were in real danger. He wondered what would happen when, and if, the disease began to set in. Shaking his head, he put the thoughts out of his mind. With a hope that he knew was likely over optimistic, he found himself thinking that maybe none of them would have caught the virus. After all, he and MJ had been lucky and she had made the same pronouncement of Hitch and Tully. The difference, Moffitt knew all too well, was that they had been farther away when LeFeurve had released the virus spores.

''What happened out there, Troy?'' Moffitt asked.

Troy eyed him through the thin shroud of smoke that had enveloped them. ''You mean what happened that LeFeurve decided to expose us all to the virus?''

''Yes, that's exactly what I'm asking. Did he drop the vial? Was it an accident?'' Moffitt thought of the realization that had come to light when he was speaking with MJ. It was so unbelievable that he still wanted confirmation from Troy.

''It was no accident.'' Troy looked daggers at LeFeurve. ''LeFeurve opened up the case, took out the vial with the spores in it, calmly opened it, and then threw it at our feet.''

"Insanity. The man is stark raving mad.'' Moffitt was still open mouthed at the idea that the man would so easily sign his own death warrant and that of three, potentially seven, other people. Countless more if one was to consider Dietrich's column. Likely, only the wind blowing the wrong way had saved the German soldiers.

''Yeah, he's not quite right, that's for sure.'' Troy shook his head. ''It was all pretty normal up to that point. Dietrich drove up, got out of the wagon, you guys were coming for us, and we put our hands up. You know how it goes.''

Moffitt nodded. He was familiar with the act of standing in front of Dietrich with his hands up while waiting for rescue.

''And then LeFeurve starts in on Dietrich in French. And don't ask me what the guy said, I have no idea.''

''Did Dietrich understand him?''

''Yeah, apparently Dietrich and Bader both understood him. Bader told LeFeurve not to be stupid.'' Troy chuckled. ''From what I've seen of Lieutenant Bader, LeFeurve must have been saying something really dumb if Bader thought that it was stupid.''

Despite himself, Moffitt smiled. In his past interactions with the young man, Bader did indeed seem to have a talent for making unwise choices, much to Dietrich's frustration.

Troy snuck another look at LeFeurve. ''Did you know that LeFeurve is Free French? That he's with the Resistance?''

Moffitt nodded. "Yes, MJ told me.''

''When?'' Troy's face went hard. "When did she tell you that?''

''Here. In the camp.''

Troy banged his head back against the wall in frustration. ''Would it have killed her to tell us that before? I can't imagine that Boggs is going to be very happy to hear that we blew up a building that belonged to the French Resistance.''

Moffitt thought that Boggs might be very happy to hear it, if what MJ had told him previously was true. However, if Troy had known who occupied their target, it was unlikely that he would have agreed to the attack. It occurred to Moffitt that Boggs' and MJ's omission around the ownership of the building had been on purpose to achieve the desired outcome.

''I don't guess that you'd like to hear what LeFeurve told us about our friend Dr. Knight, would you?'' Troy stubbed his cigarette out.

'''Very much. I asked her the same question, but I didn't really get much of an answer.''

''He claims that she's working for the Germans.''

Thinking back to when he asked MJ if she was working for the Germans and her response, Moffitt began to wonder if MJ wasn't playing both sides of the fence. ''What did Dietrich say about that?'' Moffitt asked.

''He explained to Dr. LeFeurve in lots of detail about how MJ shot two of his men and hurt two others. One of which, apparently was Bader. Seems Bader got some broken ribs out of his last encounter with Dr. Knight.''

''I see. MJ did share that she had had a previous run in with LeFeurve. Apparently, he likes to play with dangerous things for dangerous purposes,'' Moffitt said, finally. "I don't think that either side would really like it if his projects were allowed to come to fruition.''

''No, can't imagine that anyone would. But he said that the last time he had seen her, she took his work and the Germans ended up with it. For a guy with some limitation in his English skills, he did a good job of telling Dietrich that he wanted the Germans out of France at any cost and in about a dozen different ways. Each statement, nastier than the last.''

''So, we've established that LeFeurve hates Nazis.'' Moffitt looked at Dietrich and Bader. He looked back at Troy. ''Normally, I'd like that about someone.''

''Yeah, me too. But this guy, he seems to not like anyone. And I really don't like him.''

''I'm sure that the fact that we helped MJ to blow his work sky high, take him prisoner, and take the virus hasn't exactly endeared us to him.'' Moffitt thought about it. ''And really, I don't think that it was unnatural for him reach the conclusion that if he's making something to kill Germans and then someone takes it, that person must be working for the Germans. It's a valid syllogism.''

Moffitt noticed the frown that settled on Troy's face. He easily recognized the expression. ''Logical conclusion,'' Moffitt defined.

''Ah. The ally of my enemy is my enemy, right?''

"That's a very good way to sum it up.''

''Got it. Yeah, I guess so. I like that idea better than just thinking that all of Allied high command and us were just suckered by a pretty face and a lot of medical mumbo jumbo into believing that the Germans were behind the whole thing.''

Moffitt nodded. He couldn't agree more, but he also knew the Troy wished that his leaders had just been honest with him from the beginning.

''But,'' said Troy, his tone resigned as he settled back in his bunk, ''I guess that it doesn't really matter now, does it? We all have a common enemy. So now, the enemy of my enemy is my ally.''

''And regardless of whether we trust her or not, Dr. Knight is our only hope.''

''Yep.'' Troy smoked in silence until only the butt of his cigarette remained. He stubbed it out and then looked at Moffitt, as if seeing him for the first time. ''Are you okay?'' His eyes came to rest on Moffitt's head wound. ''Looks like you needed some patching up.''

''Yes, but I'm absolutely fine. And my scratch is not nearly as impressive as your black eye, old man.''

Troy put a hand to his face. ''I'd forgotten all about that. Looks pretty rough?''

''Yes, it does.'' Moffitt grinned. ''Both injuries, courtesy of Dr. LeFeurve. He has had quite a day today. No wonder he needs a nap.'' Moffitt's smile faded as he recalled LeFeurve's greatest blow of the day. Their other injuries paled by comparison.

''Bastard. I should have left him in that building,'' Troy said softly. He looked up at Moffitt. ''Are you sick? Can Dr. Knight tell?''

''No, I'm not.'' Moffitt felt guilty again as he said it.

''Should you be in here?'' Troy asked. "You know, with us?''

There was a worry and concern in Troy's eyes, that despite everything, Moffitt found ridiculously touching. Looking away, Moffitt fingered his mask. ''Nothing to worry about, Dr. Knight says, as long as I wear this.''

''Good. And Hitch and Tully?''

''They're fine, as well,'' Moffitt reassured him. He grinned. "'Also wearing masks. They're not pleased about it.''

"Moffitt.'' Troy reached out and caught Moffitt's arm. ''Will you promise me, mask or no mask, no matter what happens, that you won't let Tully and Hitch anywhere near us if we get sick?''

''I'd already given them the same orders. They were predictably not very pleased by those, either.'' Both Tully and Hitch had protested violently, but in the end Moffitt had stood his ground. He was glad. If it would give Troy some small feeling of comfort and keep them safe as well, the boys would live with being unhappy.

Troy let his hand fall back against the bed. ''Good. Thanks, Moffitt.''

''No worries.'' Moffitt studied Troy. Just like all the other men, he looked the same as normal. ''And how are you, Troy? Do you feel all right?''

''Yeah. Maybe a little tired, but that's not unusual. We haven't exactly gotten a lot of sleep in the past few days, right?'' Troy suddenly yawned.

Moffitt nodded. Their late night wakeup call two nights prior seemed like it happened years ago. It was true that they'd had any quality rest since then.

''Well, you should get some sleep, then.'' Moffitt put his hand on Troy's shoulder. ''I'll go back and see what I can do to help Dr. Knight.''

Troy smiled at him. ''Ph.D. and now you're working on your MD?''

''Doubtful. I'm sure I'll be little more than a nuisance to her.'' Moffitt quirked his mouth up. ''You'll likely be able to sympathize with her.''

Looking up at him from under heavy lids, Troy grinned. ''You haven't been a nuisance for a long time, Doctor.''

As Troy yawned again and then closed his eyes, Moffitt got up and went over to Dietrich and Bader. They seemed to be involved in a game of cards.

''Guten abend, mien Herrs,'' Moffitt said, with a salute.

Dietrich didn't bother to return the salute. ''If you say so, Sergeant.'' He played a card off of one of Bader's before digging a cigarette and a lighter out of his shirt pocket.

''Hungry?'' Moffitt asked.

Bader nodded. "Yes, starving.''

''I have heard that Allied field rations are better than ours. I wouldn't mind to try some,'' Dietrich said.

''Well, then yours must be bloody awful then,'' Moffitt said cheerfully. ''Anything else that you need? More cigarettes?''

Bader played a card and Moffitt watched as Dietrich soundly trumped him. Dietrich sighed. ''A new partner in the game?''

Bader looked hurt. ''I am trying my very best, Herr Hauptmann.''

''I'd be pleased to play with you later. If you like, that is.'' Moffitt remembered something that might be of interest to Dietrich. ''Also, I think that I also saw a chessboard in some of the things that we were unpacking. Do you play, Herr Hauptmann? I don't know about you, but I far prefer chess to cards.''

''Of course I play and I don't disagree with you, Sergeant.'' Dietrich appeared to think about it. ''Why not? I think that we will likely have time on our hands while Dr. Knight sorts this out. More than enough time for a game or two between us.'' Dietrich's eyes darkened. "All things considered, I'm sure that you will be a very worthy opponent, Sergeant.''

Moffitt realized that Dietrich was no doubt thinking about the circumstances that led him to be playing games of strategy with his enemy on a board instead of in the desert.

* * *

><p>''Hitch, get dinner started, will you?'' Moffitt asked as he walked past where Hitch and Tully were playing catch.<p>

Hitch and Tully were at the minimum prescribed distance from the quarantine tent. Moffitt was pleased to note that they were both wearing their masks.

Their situation was doing little to make Hitch affable and his mask did little to hide his displeasure. ''Ah, gee, Sarge, do I have to?''

''And why don't you make some coffee while you're at it, too?'' Moffitt asked, feeling a bit more than just a little of the devil.

Tully snickered. Hitch glared at Moffitt. Pretending not to notice, Moffitt continued to walk towards MJ's tent.

''Hey, Sarge?'' Tully called after him.

Moffitt turned. "Yes, Tully?''

''Well . . . I was just wondering.'' Tully looked down. When he looked back up, he looked worried. "How are they?''

''They all seem fine. I'm going to see Dr. Knight now to see if she knows for certain how they are. She can tell by analyzing their blood. Just as she did ours.''

''What if they're not fine? What if they're sick?'' Hitch asked. His at pique over being asked to cook and make coffee had apparently been forgotten.

Moffitt sighed. ''Well, if they're sick, then Dr. Knight will just have to find a way to cure them.''

Tully looked skeptical. ''And you think that she can?''

''Have you seen anything yet that she couldn't do?'' Moffitt nodded his heads towards where the jeeps were parked. ''Go get dinner started, will you, Hitch? And use some of those spices that Dr. Knight used, if you can find them.''

''Sure. But I'm not sure that my food is going to taste as good as hers did,'' Hitch said, doubtfully.

''Well, give it your best go, will you, Hitch? It's not likely that you're going to make it taste any worse than it does normally.''


	7. A Different Kind of War

MJ looked up from the microscope when Moffitt walked into the tent.

Even though he knew the answer just from looking at her face, Moffitt asked the question anyway. ''So, how are they?''

''All four of them have evidence of the virus in their blood.'' MJ took off her gloves and scrubbed a hand across her forehead. ''You can come and look if you like.''

Moffitt took her place at the microscope. ''What am I looking for?''

Taking another slide out of the rack, MJ withdrew the one that was under the lens and replaced it. ''Here, look at this one. It's yours.'' She adjusted the lens for him.

Moffitt looked at it and marveled at what he could see. There were red open circles of varying sizes swimming before his eyes. ''That's my blood, eh?''

''Yep. Surprise, it's not really blue!'' MJ teased. ''Ok, now look at this one.'' She pulled the slide out and replaced it with another one. ''Can you see the difference?''

Moffitt could indeed immediately see the difference in the second sample, there was a decidedly different component in the blood, almost looking like dots and dashes. ''I imagine that the difference between the two samples is indicative?'' He looked up at MJ, fully realizing that whomever the sample belonged to was ill.

''You'd be right.''

''Whose blood is that?''

''Troy's.''

''I see,'' said Moffitt. ''So can you begin to isolate what you need from the samples that you took? To find a cure?''

''I'm certainly going to try. In the meantime, we're going to start them all on some antibiotics and see what happens.'' MJ shrugged. ''Maybe we'll get lucky and we'll find something that works. If not, I'll just need to get lucky in finding or creating something that does work.''

MJ opened a bottle of medication. She handed some pills to Moffitt. "We're going to start with this.''

He held them in his palm and looked at them.

''Take them,'' MJ ordered him.

''But, why? I'm not sick. You said so yourself.''

''Preventive medicine.'' MJ made a show of taking two of the tablets.

Shrugging, Moffitt did as she asked him. ''What is it?'' he asked, belatedly.

''Just a sulfa drug, prevents the multiplication of bacteria in your system. Allows your immune system to do its job while it controls how much it has to fight. I'm sure that you've taken it before.''

He was no stranger to sulfa and he was also no stranger to its side effects. Moffitt made a mental note to, if such a thing was possible in the bloody desert, limit his time in the sun. ''And this is what you'll be giving the others?''

"Yes, it is. For now, anyway.''

Moffitt thought that Sulfa hardly sounded like a magic bullet. He had been hoping for something a little more amazing. He realized too late that he must have looked as doubtful as he felt.

''You were expecting a miracle?'' MJ snapped.

Moffitt blinked. He supposed that from MJ, he had been.

* * *

><p>The next few days did not pass pleasantly for any of them.<p>

At first, Moffitt had divided his time between trying to keep Hitch and Tully's spirits up, doing what he could to assist MJ (which had unfortunately not been much) and visiting with Troy, Bader, and Dietrich.

After the initial twenty-four hours had passed, MJ had suggested that the two privates leave and go back to their base, giving them a clean bill of health.

It had not surprised Moffitt that they had declined. Neither of the boys was willing to leave Troy. Moffitt could sympathize. Nothing would have made him leave, if he had been in their shoes. With that in mind, he wasn't about to order them away.

At least, true to MJ's initial diagnosis, neither Hitch nor Tully were exhibiting any symptoms of the virus. Moffitt's luck, despite the amount of time that he spent in the quarantine tent had also continued to hold.

It had been two days into their exile when Bader had began to show symptoms of infection. Another four hours after that, Dietrich had begun to succumb. Fourteen hours later, Troy had also started to exhibit the beginning symptoms of the illness, which by that time had become all too familiar.

The only one, oddly enough, he did not seem to be suffering was LeFeurve. Moffitt put that down as another reason why he could not bring himself to believe that there was a god.

* * *

><p>The majority of Moffitt's time became devoted to doing what he could for the sick men.<p>

He had had enough medical training and enough real experience to know the basics of how to care for someone. In addition, his considerable experience as a patient had given him more than a little insight into what an ill man might appreciate. Also, MJ had given him some specific instruction on what could be done for his patients. Unfortunately, it had not been much. To Moffitt, most of her advice seemed completely ineffectual. Even while continuing to carry out her orders to the letter, he began to feel more hopeless and more discouraged.

However, for a lack of anything else to do and with at least some hope remaining, Moffitt continued on the best that he could.

It was, he thought, much like his experience with the war as a whole.

* * *

><p>The initial symptoms of the illness had manifested themselves into a nasty approximation of an upper respiratory flu.<p>

The sounds of hacking, sniffling and sneezing, and wheezing filled the tent that had transformed from a quarantine area to infirmary. What he had seen thus far reminded Moffitt very much of his father's stories about the Spanish Influenza epidemic. In addition, each infected man, much to Moffitt's surprise, seemed to bear the effects of the disease differently.

Dietrich's earlier desire to play games of strategy, in which Moffitt had found him a particularly apt opponent, had quickly waned. Soon Dietrich had given up doing anything but sleeping fitfully on his cot in between violent bouts of coughing. Troy had become listless when he had developed the blazing fever that made the day hours of the desert heat even more unbearable.

When Troy had stopped smoking, Moffitt had sincerely begun to worry about him.

Bader's chatter had slowed to a halt and within little time, he had appeared sicker than the others had. MJ had muttered something about it being because he was younger and had a better immune system, which again, made no sense at all to Moffitt.

The one thing that the victims did all have in common is that none of them complained. When awake and coherent, they continued to be in decent humor and relatively hopeful that either MJ would miraculously find a cure or, that through fighting, they would overcome the disease themselves.

LeFeurve, as Moffitt continued to curse him, seemed to be the healthiest of the group. When Moffitt had caught the man looking at him with what looked to be amusement as he had been changing Troy's cold compress, it was all that Moffitt could manage not to knock the man's teeth in.

Still healthy and still banned from the tent where the ill were laid up, Tully and Hitch had cooked and laundered and gone on supply runs without complaint. Mostly, they had just looked worried. The stress had aged the two lads considerably and Moffitt mourned for the loss of their jovial youthful good spirits.

MJ had worked continuously and tirelessly, seemingly day and night. She had continued to dole out combinations of pills when it became apparent that previous doses were not having the desired effect.

The stress and long hours were noticeably wearing on her, as well. MJ no longer looked as immaculately beautiful as she had once. She was sweaty and unkempt, with dark circled eyes peering over her mask. She spent all of her time writing in a notebook, staring down the lens of microscope, or even off into space as she contemplated her next direction.

Any attempt at perfection had now been replaced by a grim reality. Moffitt found that he actually almost liked MJ better as she appeared at that moment. At least he was relatively sure that what he was seeing now was real.

Hitch and Tully resolutely avoided MJ like the plague. Moffitt found it to be as if they blamed her for what had happened. He supposed that it was as a natural reaction as any that the two lads could have had. He couldn't fault them for that. If he had taken the time to think about it, Moffitt knew that he might have very well done the same. By contrast, Moffitt continued to visit MJ as often as possible. She was the only link to hope that he had. During his visits to her, Moffitt continued to receive MJ's instructions around what medication to administer to their patients. He also gave her detailed updates on each sick man's condition.

Through it all, he tried to remain particularly upbeat and optimistic. It had been easy in the beginning when MJ had herself had also been cheerful and optimistic. However, as the days passed, her good humor had quickly disappeared.

Along with it, a little more of Moffitt's hope slid away.

* * *

><p>With four days had gone since they had set up their camp, nothing had improved.<p>

Moffitt gave Boggs another daily update that really wasn't an update. Boggs had stopped asking many questions. Moffitt suspected that it was because the man was afraid to hear answers. Instead, he listened in silence as Moffitt talked. At any rate, it made their conversations easy and the daily transmission took little time. Moffitt signed off and powered the radio down.

For a moment, he stared off towards the horizon at nothing. Finally, shaking himself, he moved on to the next action on his agenda. Duty to their commanding officer done, Moffitt went to see MJ to see what cocktail of medication might be on the menu for the day for their patients. Moffitt himself had stopped taking anything she had given him. He had gotten rather good at sleight of hand and MJ had gotten rather easy to distract.

When he walked into the tent, he found her staring into space just as he had been earlier. ''Penny for them?'' Moffitt asked her softly.

Startled, MJ jumped. "I was just looking at LeFeurve's blood. He's not sick at all, you said?''

Moffitt shook his head. ''I think that I've heard him cough and sneeze, but only here and there. No fever to speak of, either.''

MJ frowned. ''That doesn't make a damn bit of sense. The infection rate for that level and type of exposure should be nearly one hundred percent.''

''It's interesting, isn't it?'' Moffitt himself had begun giving LeFeurve's health a fair bit of thought. "I'm reminded of a trip, many years ago, to an archeological dig site here in Africa. I was with my father, you see, and we were staying with one of the local tribes. The entire tribe fell ill, except for one man. No one could determine why.''

Looking thoughtful, MJ studied Moffitt. ''Go on, Jack. Did you eventually find out why he wasn't sick?''

''Well, yes, actually. He'd been exposed to the illness previously when with another tribe. A very mild case, but enough to give him immunity to the more severe disease. In the end, it's no different than being given a vaccine, is it?''

MJ was silent.

When she made no move to acknowledge his previous statement or even his presence, Moffitt cleared his throat. 'Would you like to hear about what happened after that? It is the one of the most remarkable finds that we ever made.''

Finally, MJ looked at Moffitt, but still did not say a word.

Moffitt took her lack of a response as encouragement. ''The area was rumored by the local tribe to be a burial site containing . . .''

''Jack?'' MJ interrupted.

''Yes, MJ?"

''Go get me LeFeurve.''

''Sure, but really, this story is remarkable.''

''I'm sure that it is. But Jack?''

''Yes, MJ?''

''Shut up for once about your oh so fascinating past and go get me LeFeurve!''

It took Moffitt a moment to overcome his shock that MJ had yelled at him. He felt as though she had slapped him. ''I say. You want LeFeurve right now?''

''Yes, Jack. Go! Get! Him!'' She pointed at the flap of the tent as she bit out the words. ''Now!''

Moffitt backed out of the tent as quickly as he could. He literally ran into Tully, who was standing just outside with Hitch.

Tully caught Moffitt as he stumbled and righted him. "Everything okay?" Tully asked.

''Yes, I believe so.'' Moffitt shook his head, unable to get the image of MJ, red faced and screaming like a fishwife, out of his head.

''What the heck was that?'' Hitch asked, trying to peer inside the flap.

Moffitt sighed. ''Proof that Tully's pappy is always invariably right.''

A slow grin spread across Tully's face. Smothering it quickly, he managed to look concerned. "Well, I'm real sorry to hear that.''

''So am I, Tully, so am I. But it's hardly the first indicator that we've seen that you've been wiser than me in this current situation, is it?''

Reluctantly, Tully shook his head.

* * *

><p>When Moffitt went back to the infirmary tent, he was almost surprised at what he found.<p>

Dietrich was out of bed, taking a swing at LeFeurve. Troy was making his way, slowly but surely, from his bed to assist Dietrich.

''I say, what is going on here?'' Moffitt asked. He quickly stepping between Dietrich's week attempt at a blow and the counter attack from LeFeurve that was decidedly stronger.

LeFeurve sneered. ''Herr Hauptmann is certainly protective of his young leutnant. But there is nothing that he can do to protect him now, is there?''

''You bastard,'' spat Dietrich, breathing hard and then coughing. ''You were going to harm him.''

Moffitt looked sharply at LeFeurve. ''What? How?''

''It's true, Moffitt,'' said Troy, wheezing. ''I think that he was going to try to suffocate Bader.''

''Is that correct, doctor?'' Moffitt noticed that LeFeurve was holding one of the small flat pillows from one of the cots. ''I certainly hope that it's not.''

Looking directly into Moffitt's eyes, LeFeurve dropped the pillow and held up his hands. ''Why would I do such a thing? It's the fever. Your friends are hallucinating, Sergeant. I was merely checking on the boy. You can see, he is in a bad way. As a doctor, I thought that I could help him.'' LeFeurve clucked his tongue and was suddenly the picture of concern. "If he does not get help soon, I will be the least of his worries. We may already be past that point.''

Moffitt did not disagree that Bader looked awful, and that he sounded even worse. But the boy's condition hardly looked any direr than it had over the past day.

''You were doing no such thing! And I am not delusional!'' Dietrich yelled. A sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead and there was an unchecked wild look in his eyes. From his bright eyes to his high color, it was evident to Moffitt that Dietrich continued to suffer from a raging fever. Moffitt had witnessed the normally calm and reasonable Dietrich to be less than lucid more than a few times since he had became ill. Moffitt looked to Troy who at least still seemed to have possession of most of his faculties.

''What Dietrich is telling you is what happened,'' Troy confirmed with a confident nod.

Moffitt's patience was rapidly failing him. ''Don't we have enough problems without you trying to visit intentional harm on young Bader, Dr. LeFeurve? What is wrong with you?''

LeFeurve said nothing.

''I demand that this man be restrained if he is going to continue to be quartered with us, Sergeant Moffitt!'' Dietrich managed to convey a surprising amount of authority given the fact that he was swaying unsteadily. ''Actually, I would prefer that the man not be in the same tent with us at all. He cannot be trusted!''

Moffitt did not disagree, but there was no other option. ''I'm very sorry, Captain, but you know that this, the tent that Dr. Knight is using as a lab, and the one where Hitch and Tully are sleeping are the only tents that we have. The good doctor here would have to bunk out in the open, if not in here.''

Dietrich nodded , indicating that it was an acceptable solution. ''Fine.''

Sighing, Moffitt looked again to Troy to be the voice of reason. Troy was no help as he looked as though he agreed with Dietrich.

Bader continued to sleep, oblivious to all of the drama surrounding him.

LeFeurve shook his head. "Not surprisingly, these two are too ignorant to appreciate my help. But then, what would one expect of a Nazi and an American?''

Troy growled loudly in response to the insult before he began coughing.

''What about me? Do you have a higher opinion of the English?'' Moffitt could tell by looking at LeFeurve that the answer was no.

''I have no good opinion of someone that would assist Dr. Knight willingly,'' LeFeurve said.

''Pity. I'll chain him to his bunk, if that makes you both feel better,'' Moffitt told Troy and Dietrich.

''Infinitely, Sergeant. '' Satisfied, Dietrich went back to his bed to collapse. "Thank you.''

''If you could gag him while you're at it, that would be great too, Moffitt. He's made some pretty nasty comments to Dietrich and Bader since we've been here.'' Troy began coughing again. It was a moment before he could finish his thought. "Maybe you should just take him out and dump in him the desert if he doesn't like our company. ''

"Yes!'' Dietrich's agreement was enthusiastic. ''Good riddance to him. Let the sun and the sand accomplish with him what the virus has not!''

"And leave your side? At your time of need, Herr Hauptmann?'' LeFeurve asked, surveying the room. ''There is nowhere else that I would rather be, gentlemen. I would not miss seeing this for the world.''

"Shut up!'' Troy bellowed. He made another clumsy but determined move to go after LeFeurve.

"Save your strength, Troy. I understand.'' Moffitt caught Troy and patted him on the back. "He's not worth you wearing yourself out over.''

"Moffitt, I'm warning you, either keep him quiet or get him out of here.''

''I'll see what we can do. I think that at a least a temporary reprieve can be arranged.'' Moffitt looked at LeFeurve. "For the love of god man, you're a doctor. That must mean something to you! You may not like any of us, but we're in a situation that should allow you to put that behind you. ''

LeFeurve gave Moffitt a small smile. "I am rather enjoying your 'situation.' It is turning out exactly as I had hoped.''

It was all that Moffitt could do to stop from strangling LeFeurve himself. Instead, he took Troy's arm and steered him back to bed. After he had settled Troy back in, a calmer Moffitt came to stand before LeFeurve. ''You really are a right bastard, aren't you?"

"And you are a fool, Sergeant, who is fighting a war that he will not win.''

Moffitt snorted. "I've had better men than you tell me that. Anyway, you need to come with me. Dr. Knight wants to see you.''

''I do not wish to see her.''

''Too bad.'' Moffitt reached out and caught LeFeurve's arm. ''You heard what I said. It's not a request, doctor. Either willingly or by force, you're coming with me. Trust me, Dr. Knight is in no mood for non-cooperation.'' Moffitt rather hoped that MJ might take some of her frustration and ire out on LeFeurve. He was sorry that Dietrich and Troy were not going to get to see that.

''I am not coming with you.'' LeFeurve jerked against Moffitt's hand. "It seems as though you will have to make me, Sergeant Moffitt.''

Despite any effort that he had been making to act like a civilized man, it had all finally gotten the better of Moffitt. His vision clouded and he no longer saw the smirking Frenchman before him. All that he saw was red. With a strength that Dietrich and Troy both likely wished that they possessed, Moffitt punched LeFeurve squarely on the chin. The man fell backwards and Moffitt caught him, turned him, and then pinioned both of LeFeurve's arms behind his back.

Moffitt could have sworn that he heard Dietrich mutter ''gut gemacht'' while he was manhandling LeFeurve out of the tent.

* * *

><p>''As requested, I brought you a present, MJ,'' said Moffitt, pushing LeFeurve into MJ's tent. ''Wish it could have been something nicer.''<p>

MJ barely looked up from the book that contained what Moffitt knew to be her notes. ''Exactly what the doctor ordered. What the hell took you so long, Jack?''

Moffitt opened his mouth to tell her, but then thought better of it.

MJ didn't seem to notice that Moffitt hadn't answered her question. ''I never thought that I'd say this, Dr. LeFeurve, but I'm very glad to see you. Won't you sit down? I have a few questions that I need answered.''

When LeFeurve didn't move, Moffitt roughly pushed the man onto the stool. He dug his fingers into LeFeurve's shoulders to discourage any additional uncooperative thoughts that LeFeurve might be having.

''I have no answers to your questions, Dr. Knight,'' LeFeurve said. ''Which is unfortunate, because you do not seem to have any, either. I do not think that you are quite as good at your profession as you would like everyone to believe. You make a better thief than you do a scientist.''

Moffitt waited hopefully for MJ to bite the man's head off. He was disappointed. MJ merely smiled faintly at the insult. Picking up a slide, she slotted it under the microscope. ''This is your blood sample, Dr. LeFeurve. The virus is present, but you have no symptoms. Why is that?''

''Luck, perhaps?'' LeFeurve tried to shake himself out of Moffitt's grip. "Clean living and a pure heart?''

Moffitt continued to hold him firm, but allowed himself a vague smile as he thought about a time when he had uttered a similar line.

''You should, by all rights, be just as sick as everyone else is.'' MJ squinted down the eye piece of the microscope. ''But yet, you're obviously not. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you had created a vaccination for the virus.''

''Well, that would be unlikely, wouldn't it?''

''It would be unlike you.'' MJ regarded LeFeurve thoughtfully. ''That's why you ran back into the building before it blew up. You wanted to retrieve the vaccination. And perhaps you also have a cure?''

''It hardly matters now, does it?'' LeFeurve narrowed his eyes. ''You and your friends here . . .'' He gave Moffitt a pointed look. ''Were only interested in the virus. Of which you now have plenty of samples. Ironic, no?''

''You created a vaccination and a cure.''

''I did. And both of them, '' he looked again at Moffitt with increasing contempt, ''your heavy handed Allied lackeys blew to the heavens, right along with all of my other work. They effectively signed their own death warrants."

''You are going to recreate both the cure and the vaccine here. Now.''

LeFeurve shook his head.

MJ walked over to where LeFeurve and Moffitt were standing. ''Do you not understand? Do I need to translate it into French for you?''

''No need, I understand. I hope that you understand that there is nothing that you can do to change my mind.''

''No? How sure of that are you, Dr. LeFeurve?''

Moffitt thought that MJ had an odd glint in her eye.

''My intention is to kill every German in Europe, Dr. Knight. Not to give you the means to save them. I do not care if your Allied friends die, either,'' LeFeurve said. "Good riddance to you all.''

Moffitt was thinking that the man was an incredible piece of work when he saw MJ move closer to them. Occupied with making his hold on the doctor as uncomfortable as possible, Moffitt barely noticed when he felt MJ brush up against his side.

''Dr. LeFeurve, I am hoping that you will cooperate. If not, I am going to have to change your mind,'' MJ said. A dull metallic click followed her words.

That sound created a reaction in Moffitt that could not have been stronger if he had been one of Pavlov's dogs. Adrenaline began flowing freely through his blood. That noise always meant trouble, with a very real possibility of death. It was not something that he had expected to hear nor could he determine exactly why he had heard it, but there was no mistaking what it had been. The noise was the safety being slid off a Webley. While the sound was instantly recognizable to him, it took a few more moments for Moffitt to realize that MJ had nicked his gun and was holding on LeFeurve.

Not that he cared much if LeFeurve lived or died, but Moffitt felt that he really should say or do something. He cleared his throat. ''Dr. Knight, could you please return my gun? Nothing will be gained by shooting Dr. LeFeurve.''

MJ leveled the gun at LeFeurve and her gaze at Moffitt. ''You think not, Jack?'' Her smile was chilling.

The sound of the shot to registered in Moffitt's brain. He looked open mouthed at MJ who was still smiling and holding the gun.

''Salope!'' howled LeFeurve, in shock and pain.

''You actually shot him,'' Moffitt breathed. In his surprise, he loosened his grip on LeFeurve.

LeFeurve doubled over and fell off the stool, clutching his knee. From looking at LeFeurve's leg, Moffitt decided that MJ had done a rather neat job of it. A shot calculated to cause the maximum amount of pain with the least serious injury. He was hard pressed not to admire her handiwork as he watched LeFeurve's pant leg quickly grow dark and wet.

''Sarge?'' came Hitch's voice from outside of the tent. ''Is everything all right?''

''Just fine,'' Moffitt yelled back over his shoulder. Fine, he thought, as long as one wasn't LeFeurve.

"If you agree to help me, we'll treat your leg. If not, a nasty infection could set in. And then there's the blood loss. What do you say, Dr. LeFeurve?'' MJ reengaged the safety and handed Moffitt his gun. "Are you in the mood to cooperate now?''

''I believe that you really would kill me, no?'' LeFeurve asked through gritted teeth as he bound one of his shoelaces above the wound.

''I would. As his friends get sicker, so might Sergeant Moffitt.''

Moffitt thought about that.

He couldn't disagree with MJ's predictions of possible future outcomes if the situation didn't rapidly improve.


	8. Cure or Kill

Because of his occupation with the condition of Troy and the others, Moffitt had had little opportunity to check in on the progress of MJ and LeFeurve.

He just hoped that their work was going well. Moffitt also hoped that neither of them had killed the other. He had left Tully and Hitch posted outside the entrance of MJ's tent with instructions to go in shooting first and asking questions later if they heard any kind of difficulty from LeFeurve. They were also under strict orders to find Moffitt immediately if any headway was made in finding a cure for the virus.

Tully and Hitch had seemed pleased to been given the task, if for no other reason than that it allowed them the potential to do something that involved some sort of action.

Every so often, Moffitt would look up at the entrance of the infirmary, hoping that the young men had appeared outside to announce that MJ and LeFeurve had found a cure for the virus. He was consistently disappointed.

When Bader had begun to cough up blood, Moffitt finally began to accept that no cure was likely to be found, at least not in time enough to save the men in his care. While conceding defeat was not normally in his nature, especially when people he cared about were involved, Moffitt was pragmatic enough to entertain reality. There was nothing in sight but a rather unpleasant end. He felt rather like he had the day when he had found himself posted up in front of a firing squad with no hope of rescue. Moffitt reminded himself that Troy had saved him from that fate, even when the prognosis for his survival had been exceedingly dim.

It had been a miracle, or at the very least, an illustration of the semi-charmed life that the members of the Rat Patrol seemed to lead. Something, or someone, always managed to save them, even if just in the nick of time.

Moffitt truly hoped that MJ could rescue Troy and the others from what seemed to be as unpleasant of an end as they had ever faced.

* * *

><p>Having confirmed that everyone still breathing and sleeping, even if not easily, Moffitt allowed himself to sit down beside of Troy's bed.<p>

The tent was quiet. The only sounds were the occasional mumblings of men trapped in fever-fueled dreams. Troy and Dietrich fought horrible enemies in hellish nightmares and even more heartbreakingly, young Bader sometimes called for his mother. Like everything else to do with their illness, Moffitt had found that he had become used to it. Oddly enough, he had begun to find those small noises comforting.

At least, he reasoned, it was evidence that they were all still alive. It saved him the trouble of checking on them, just to make sure.

Seated and with no need immediate need of rising, Moffitt allowed himself to admit that he was thoroughly and utterly exhausted. He found that he was literally too tired to think. Unable to stop himself, he let his eyes close, telling himself that it would only be for a moment.

''Sarge!" Tully called from outside.

Moffitt's eyes flew open. He wondered if he had dreamed that Tully was yelling at him.

''Sarge!'' Tully yelled again. ''Dr. Knight wants to see you. She says that they've found a cure!''

In his haste to get up, Moffitt overturned his chair. He didn't bother to right it. Instead, he ran out into the blinding sunlight.

''Are you serious, Tully?'' Moffitt could hardly allow himself to believe it.

Tully nodded. Moffitt could tell that Tully was grinning behind his mask. Clapping Tully on the back, Moffitt took off running towards MJ's tent with Tully following closely behind.

Still posted outside of the lab, an equally excited Hitch greeted Moffitt. ''They think that they found a cure! Everyone's going to be all right! Right?''

''I'll let you know as soon as I find out.'' Moffitt pushed his way into the tent. "I heard that you have good news?''

MJ and LeFeurve both looked up at him. LeFeurve looked peevish. MJ looked pale and exhausted. They were, thought Moffitt, much the same as he had left them. The only difference was that they might now have a potential cure.

''Well?'' Moffitt asked, removing his mask.

"Put your damned mask back on, you idiot, '' MJ snapped. "Have you lost your mind? I hope that you're being more careful while you're around Troy and the others.''

"What? Oh, right. Better safe than sorry, I know.'' It had become customary for Moffitt to remove his mask when with MJ in the lab. While it had been a hypocritical break in the same order that he had given Hitch and Tully, it had been a welcome respite. Why it had changed, it hardly mattered. Dutifully, Moffitt replaced the mask and went to stand by MJ and LeFeurve.

"You found a cure?'' Moffitt barely dared to hope.

MJ nodded her head. ''Dr. LeFeurve managed to recreate the combination of antibiotics that will kill the virus.'' The statement seemed to leave her short of breath and her eyes burned brightly above her own mask.

''What fantastic news! You must beside yourselves! I know that I am. Well done, both of you!'' Before Moffitt even realized it, his arms were around MJ and he was lifting her from her feet.

''Jack! Put me down!'' MJ demanded. Her body went stiff in his embrace.

"What? Oh, yes, of course.'' Moffitt released her immediately, puzzled by her reaction. Still, he couldn't stop himself from smiling. "Lost my head a bit. You must be over the moon!''

MJ took a few steps back from Moffitt. ''We are very pleased that we found something.''

''We?'' asked LeFeurve, looking pained. ''I found the cure. Both the first time and this time.''

''Still no less reason for celebration, old man,'' Moffitt said absently, thinking that it was odd that MJ did not seem more excited at the discovery. He dismissed it, putting it down to the stress and the strain of their situation or even professional pride that LeFeurve had found a solution that she had not.

MJ watched LeFeurve as he filled a syringe from a small vial.

''We should administer it now,'' said LeFeurve, handing the syringe to MJ. ''I am not sure that some of them have much time to wait. Like the boy.''

"Agreed.'' MJ held the syringe up to light. ''Dr. LeFeurve, what did you say that the dosage per pound was?''

LeFeurve consulted his notes and gave MJ a fractional number. MJ looked at Moffitt. ''How much would you say that Bader, Troy, and Dietrich each weigh, Jack?''

"Erm, let me see.'' Moffitt thought about the question, estimating the relative size of the men and comparing it to his last known weight. However, they were all thinner now than they had been when they arrived. "I say, how exact do I need to be?"

"Over estimating is better than underestimating,'' said LeFeurve. He looked to MJ for confirmation.

She merely shrugged. "I don't see any harm in a slightly higher dose than needed.''

''All right then.'' Moffitt willed himself to do the mental calculations necessary. It was harder than it should have been. He found it difficult to muster enough concentration to perform even the simplest task. "Twelve and half stone a piece, maybe? '' he finally answered.

MJ made a face at him. "How about in pounds? Come on, Jack, can't you think like an American?''

"No. I'll do a lot, but not that.''

MJ laughed. "Sorry I asked.'' She did some calculations in her notebook. Taking the needle, she filled it again from the vial. "That should take care of everyone.''

LeFeurve nodded and smiled. "Yes, I think that it will.''

* * *

><p>They left the tent, MJ with the cure in hand and with Moffitt supporting the limping LeFeurve.<p>

As they passed by Tully and Hitch, Moffitt jerked his head at LeFeurve. ''Cover him,'' Moffitt mouthed. Even with only one good leg, he still didn't put it past the man to try something stupid. Tully and Hitch both drew their side arms.

Entering the tent, Moffitt was happy to see that while none of his charges looked better, they also looked no worse. Even Bader looked to be resting peacefully and his lips were free of any of the rusty red residue that Moffitt had been cleaning away frequently.

MJ sat down beside of Bader and took one of his arms. Bader stirred in his sleep, muttering something that Moffitt couldn't quite hear. ''Shhhh,'' MJ murmured. She pushed the boy's damp blond hair back from his forehead. ''Allles wird gut, mein lieber Junge,'' she said to him. With a touch as gentle as her words, MJ took his arm.

LeFeurve got closer and looked on with an intense interest, which Moffitt assumed could only be scientific curiosity. MJ held up the syringe and flicked it with her finger. She moved to bring the needle into contact with the skin of Bader's upper arm.

In an instant, MJ turned and plunged the needle deep into LeFeurve's thigh, releasing the entire contents of the syringe with a steady push of the plunger.

''What the hell?'' Moffitt asked, surprised. He was even more surprised when LeFeurve let out a groan and dropped to his knees. Open mouthed, Moffitt looked at MJ.

"Dr. LeFeurve is not as clever as he thinks that he is,'' MJ offered as an explanation.

''God in heaven, what have you done, MJ?'' Moffitt asked as LeFeurve began to groan loudly in pain.

The noise woke Troy and Dietrich. They both struggled to sit up in bed.

''Was ist los?'' asked Dietrich, groggily. "Was ist das Franzoisich Ficker bis jetzt?"

Moffitt looked sharply at Dietrich. Not only was Dietrich's comment in German, it was also obviously unedited. The question sounded especially harsh in Dietrich's native tongue and it was uncharacteristically profane. It was, thought Moffitt, as good of an illustration of any of how much Dietrich truly disliked LeFeurve.

The object of Dietrich's hatred let out another shuddering moan.

"What have you done, MJ?'' Moffitt asked again, his eyes back on LeFeurve. He knew what he was seeing but he couldn't quite bring himself to believe it.

''She has killed me!'' LeFeurve looked up with eyes that were unseeing and filled with pain.

"She has killed you,'' Moffitt repeated. He looked at MJ with horror, fully realizing what could have happened. "He was going to kill Bader and the others and you killed him.''

''Yes, you idiote Anglaise! '' LeFeurve looked at MJ and his gaze sharpened. ''The one consolation in all of this is that Dr. Knight is going to die, right along with the Bosche scum that she has been helping.''

''Moffitt,'' asked Troy, ''what the hell is going on here?''

Despite his condition, LeFeurve made a noise that sounded like a giggle. "Poetic justice, Sergeant.''

"What does that mean?'' Troy was sitting upright, looking at LeFeurve like the mad man that he was.

Moffitt turned to MJ. She was still breathing heavily and her eyes were wild. At first, Moffitt credited her labored breathing and appearance to her shock at the realization of what she had done. Then, Moffitt thought of his earlier observations of her while he had been in the lab. He remembered MJ biting his head off because he had removed his mask, her tension when he had picked her up, and her stepping away from him.

Moffitt saw with a sudden clarity all the signs that he had been ignoring when a coughing fit wracked her body so hard that her shoulders shook. ''You're ill,'' Moffitt whispered, hoping that the others wouldn't hear him.

Still coughing, MJ looked away from him.

''Sergeant Moffitt,'' asked Dietrich, speaking English and sounding much more civilized, ''what is going on? What is all this nonsense about? Troy?''

"I don't know. Moffitt? Answers, now!'' Troy ordered, still very much in charge even when confined to bed.

''I think that Dr. LeFeurve may have made an error when mixing the cure.'' Moffitt said slowly, his exhausted brain still working overtime to comprehend what series of events had unfolded. ''I think that it proved to be a fatal one.''

LeFeurve, completely prone on the floor, began to experience something that looked to Moffitt like a seizure. Despite his feelings for the man, Moffitt dropped to his knees and tried to help him. As the man shudder and convulsed, Moffitt couldn't think of a single earthly thing to do. He looked up at MJ for some sort of instruction.

''Leave him. He's dead. Or will be.'' MJ's tone was completely devoid of emotion or concern. Her expression was no different as she watched LeFeurve experience his final moments.

Moffitt found her reaction highly unusual. He knew from too much experience that it was normal to run the gamut of emotion when one killed a man, no matter what the reason. He saw none of that on MJ's face. Perhaps in her line of work, she had become immune to death, Moffitt considered. If disease was one's focus then certainly death was no stranger. However, the blood of LeFeurve was on her hands alone. There was no faceless disease to blame for the man's death. There was only MJ herself. Oddly enough, Moffitt found himself wondering if this was the first time that Dr. Knight had killed someone.

Instinctually, even if unreasonably, he felt that he knew the answer. Illusions of perfection, it seemed, when it finally shattered broke into a million pieces.

''Viva La France!'' LeFeurve managed to mutter before his eyes closed.

Moffitt checked the man's pulse. It became fainter as each beat of his heart drove the poison through his body.

''Is he not dead yet?'' MJ asked, sounding impatient.

''Not looking very good, I'm afraid,'' Moffitt answered truthfully. "I'd say any moment now.''

''Gut,'' Dietrich muttered, his eyes closed. ''Und kann seine Seele rot in der Hölle. ''

Cconsidering everything, Moffitt found he could hardly blame Dietrich for the condemnation. As he watched LeFeurve breath his last, Moffitt felt as if he should feel something for LeFeurve. He found that he also could not feel anything except for relief that the man had not accomplished his evil objective.

''Viva La France, indeed.'' Moffitt sighed and stood up. He caught Troy's eye. ''Patriot to the end, apparently. Well, I admire his commitment to his cause, but certainly not his methods."

"What was in that syringe, Dr. Knight?'' Troy asked.

''Judging from the effects, I suspect that it was a paralytic agent, a barbiturate, and a sodium.'' MJ looked down at LeFeurve. ''Given in a smaller dose, the results would have less spectacular and not as immediate, but deadly just the same."

Troy's mouth set in a grim line. "Guess he didn't like how his first shot at trying to kill us was working out.''

"We should have left him in the bloody desert after that stunt.'' Moffitt shook his head, trying to recall the events of the days leading up to where they had found themselves. "Why didn't we do that?''

"Dietrich and I discussed it and agreed that we should bring him with us. He would have died if we had left him there. Everyone deserves a fair chance.''

Moffitt looked at LeFeurve's body. Despite Dietrich's and Troy's desire to do the noble thing, the end result had been the same. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble, thought Moffitt, if they two of them had been lesser men.

''Well, if you'll excuse me gentlemen? I have to find a cure, and for real this time.'' MJ rose from Bader's bed.

It was not lost on Moffitt that she looked exceedingly unsteady on her feet. He moved to her side and took her elbow. ''Are you sure that you're up to it, Dr. Knight?''

''If not me, then who, Jack?'' MJ looked down at LeFeurve before she stepped over his body. ''I'll be back,'' she told Troy and Dietrich.

LeFeurve had just given one last shudder. Again, Moffit bent to check his pulse. This time, there was no movement under his fingers. Taking a sheet from LeFeurve's cot, he covered the man. They would have to bury him.

It was, thought Moffitt, just the last in the list of difficulties that LeFeurve had caused them. He was not relishing telling Tully and Hitch what their next duty was to be.

Troy reached out and stopped Moffitt on his way to give Tully and Hitch their grim orders.

"Yes, Troy?'' Moffitt asked. "Are you all right? Did you need something?''

''Is she sick, Moffitt?'' Troy asked, carefully keeping his voice low, as to not disturb Dietrich who appeared to have once again slipped back into sleep.

Briefly, Moffitt considering lying to Troy, but he found that he couldn't get the words past his lips. ''I am relatively certain that Dr. Knight is infected.''

''Damn it.'' Troy's voice was soft. He began to cough and turned to the side. When he turned back to face Moffitt, there was a spray of red vividly staining the white cotton of the pillowcase.

Moffitt couldn't help but to stare at the blood, yet another sign of how dire the situation was.

''What now, Moffitt?''

Swallowing, Moffitt brought his eyes back to Troy's. ''I'm not sure that I know. It seems that we just have to hope MJ has enough strength left to find a cure. For you. For her.''

''That's a lot of hope to have.'' Troy's brow furrowed. Moffitt knew that Troy was calculating their odds of survival just as he often did when the deck was stacked against them on the battlefield.

''It is, isn't it?'' was all that Moffitt could say.

''Yeah.'' Troy closed his eyes. ''Well, we're not dead yet. So, while I'm living, I'll keep fighting and hoping.''

Moffitt clasped Troy's hand. ''Good man. I'll be doing the same. Be back shortly. For LeFeurve. Looks like you're finally getting him out the tent.''

Troy sighed. "Not what I had in mind, you know. The guy was dangerous and crazy. Not the best combination. It was only a matter of time, I guess.''

Moffitt nodded. Everything seemed to be a mere matter of time. He looked again at the blood staining Tory's sheets.

And time was quickly running out.

* * *

><p>Moffitt found Tully and Hitch, predictably, just outside of the tent. He was sure that they had heard almost every word of what had occurred inside.<p>

''What happened, Sarge?'' Hitch asked. ''We saw Dr. Knight go by here. She looked pretty upset.''

''Yes, well, let's just say that things didn't go as planned, shall we?'' Moffitt couldn't remember the last time something had gone as planned. He rubbed at the dull ache that had moved from his temples to settle at the back of his neck.

''The cure didn't work?''

"I think that it solved at least one of our problems.'' Moffitt looked back at the tent and thought about LeFeurve's body. ''How long until the sun goes down?''

Hitch squinted up at the sky. ''Three to four hours, probably.''

''Well, you had better get started.''

''On what?'' Tully asked.

''Digging a hole. Six feet across and as close to that deep as you can manage. A decent distance from the camp.''

''Six feet?'' The bubble that Hitch had been blowing snapped and left his lips covered with pink residue. He didn't seem to notice. ''Did someone . . .?"'

''Die?'' Tully completed.

''Who?'' Hitch demanded, grabbing Moffitt's arm tightly. ''Who? Who died, Moffitt? Who was it?''

''Calm down, Hitch!'' Moffitt realized that he might have overestimated their eavesdropping skills. He shook himself from Hitch's grasp. ''LeFeurve is dead.''

''Oh.'' Hitch removed his hat and ran a shaky hand through his hair. The relief on his face was evident. ''I was afraid . . . Well, I thought that it might be . . .'' Hitch swallowed hard and ducked his head.

''No. Only LeFeurve.'' Moffitt confirmed. "Troy and the others are . . .'' His voice trailed off.

Tully and Hitch both looked at him, waiting.

"Fine,'' Moffitt said, finally.

Hitch snorted. "You've been saying that for days. How are they really?'' Unusually hard blue eyes fixed themselves on Moffitt.

''You've heard what I said, Hitch.''

"They're all going to die, aren't they? And there's not a damned thing that we can do about it. Just tell us!''

Moffitt heard something desperate in Hitch's tone. "I will not tell you that.''

"You never tell us anything. You won't even let us near them.''

"No, that's right. I won't let you near them." Moffitt thought of his promise to Troy.

Tully said nothing, his expression blank. It was impossible for Moffitt to tell if he shared Hitch's feelings or not.

Hitch pushed past Moffitt . "You act as if you're the only one that has a right to be worried.''

Moffitt noticed that Hitch was going straight for the tent flap of the infirmary. "You will not go in there. That's an order, Private!''

Hitch rounded on Moffitt, his hands balled into fists of frustration. "We may never see Troy again. That is, until you tell us to dig a hole for him.'' Hitch looked over at Tully. "We've known him a hell of a long time. A lot longer than we've been saddled with you, that's for sure. I want to see him and I'm going to.''

"No, I don't think that you will.''

"You think that you're protecting us, don't you? That we can't handle this. Well, guess what. We don't need you to protect us, Moffitt. We don't need you tell us what we can do or can't. We're adults and we have rights.''

"You're in the Army, Hitch. When last I checked, upon enlistment, you effectively surrender most of your rights.'' Moffitt felt his weariness return tenfold. He reached out to take Hitch's arm. "Though you have every right to be concerned. And upset. And worried. But, Hitch, please understand. I can't let you go into that tent.''

"I'm going to go see Troy. You can try and stop me, Moffitt.'' With what seemed to be little effort, Hitch pulled his arm from Moffitt's grasp. "But you won't.''

''Hitchcock!'' Again, Moffitt reached out to grab Hitch's arm.

Hitch turned and lashed out. With reflexes that he was surprised that he still possessed Moffitt managed to react in time to duck the punch. Hitch scowled and wound up to swing at him again. Moffitt prepared himself to take a blow that never landed.

He looked up and found that Tully was holding Hitch's arms.

"Sorry, Sarge,'' said Tully. "We're just real worried. You understand, don't you?''

Moffitt ran a hand across his face. Hitch and Tully were obviously feeling the same worries, stresses, and strains as were everyone else. Moffitt cursed himself that he hadn't been more sympathetic to the impact that the completely awful situation was having on them. "I absolutely understand. None of us is currently in the best frame of mind.''

"We'll go take care of that hole now.''

"Thank you, Tully.''

''Yep.'' Tully looked thoughtful. ''You know, that French guy didn't even seem sick.''

''Ironic, isn't it?''

Tully nodded and looked as though he was waiting for an explanation.

Not having the energy required to recount the bizarre circumstance that had led to LeFeurve's death, Moffitt couldn't give him one. ''I'll explain later. Bring one of the jeeps around and I'll bring the body out for you.''

Tully shepherded Hitch off in the direction of where they had last parked the jeeps.

Moffitt felt an odd sense of detachment, as though the entire exchange had occurred between people that he didn't know. Still numb, he got on with his task of retrieving LeFeurve's body. He was glad that he had had the foresight to shroud the body in a sheet. Moffitt was not sorry that he did not have to look at the man's face even if only one more time.

Tully pulled the jeep to a stop in front of the tent. He got out and helped Moffitt load the corpse into the back.

''Let me know when you're finished digging the grave and I'll come out and cover it,'' Moffitt told him.

Tully nodded. He looked at Moffitt for a few moments. Then, he patted him on the back and climbed into the jeep.

''What are you going to be doing, Moffitt?'' asked Hitch. His expression made it obvious that he was not looking forward to his assigned duty. He also seemed none too pleased that Moffitt wasn't going to be helping them with the hardest part of the chore at the hottest part of the day.

Moffitt turned and began to walk away. ''Seeing if I can't do something, anything, to avoid having to dig four more graves.''

''Four?'' Moffitt heard Tully ask.

Moffitt didn't bother to elaborate.


	9. Surprising, Not Shocking

Careful that his mask was in place, Moffitt walked into the tent.

Not surprisingly, MJ was back at the lab bench, looking through the microscope. She barely acknowledged Moffitt's presence.

Moffitt watched her work until a violent coughing fit shook her body. When it didn't immediately abate, he found the canteen and took it to her.

Lifting her own mask, MJ managed to take a breath and drink. She paused for a moment, the back of her hand against her lips. "Thank you.''

''I'd ask if you were all right, but it seems as though the question is just stupid enough to be irritating,'' Moffitt said, finally.

''I feel like hell. I'm burning up, my head is splitting and I can barely breathe.'' MJ pulled her mask the rest of the way off and gave Moffitt a faint grin. ''That's actually better. I guess that there's no need for that any more. One benefit of being sick, I suppose.''

Looking at the discarded mask, Moffitt nodded. So much for precautions, he thought.

He would have thought if either of them had a chance to contract the sickness, that it would have been him. He would have chalked his continuing health up to his own dumb luck, but after everything, Moffitt found it hard to entertain the idea anything like luck existed.

"You're sure that it's the virus?'' He turned his eyes to MJ. She did indeed look fevered and pale, much like Troy and the others had in the beginning stages of their illness.

"Of course I'm sure. I tested my blood. And I have all of the symptoms.''

"That's very true. You are definitely exhibiting them.'' Moffitt continued to look at her.

She said nothing for several moments. Finally, MJ sighed. ''I don't like the way that you're looking at me, Jack.''

''Oh? And how's that?''

"You're looking at me like you look at the rest of them. Like I'm already dead.''

''Bloody hell, woman! How dare you say that!'' Moffitt banged his hand on the table, the noise of clinking glass following the thwack of flesh and bone on wood. ''I have done nothing but look after them for days. Keep them comfortable. Keep them safe. And all the while, trying to keep up the hope that you'll save them! Which I've seen damned little evidence of thus far.''

"You think that you'd do better, Jack? What do you know about any of this?'' After giving him an angry look, MJ started coughing again. She leaned against the table for support.

"Not much obviously." Moffitt snapped. The anger that he had squashed during his exchange with Hitch flared again, burning brightly.

"I'm sorry, Jack," MJ said, wiping tears that had formed in her eyes from her violent coughing. "I know that this has been very hard on you. And it's all my fault. I guess it's only right that I got sick as well.'' Eyes still wet, she looked at Moffitt and sniffed.

There always was something, thought Moffitt, about seeing a woman with tears in her eyes that made him want to comfort her. There was also always something about seeing a woman's tears that made him suspect that he was being manipulated. However, despite himself, he felt his anger slip away.

"Without a cure, what will happen?'' Moffitt asked, calmly.

''I don't know,'' MJ said. "There's always a chance that they,'' she hesitated, ''we will survive. Very few things have 100% mortality rate.''

Moffitt was beginning to think that even if it was only a chance, it was something. "What are the odds of survival?''

"In LeFeurve's research, about a 15% survival rate is expected without treatment. If the patient is under 30, it seems that it's much lower.'' She smiled vaguely. "And lucky me, I'm all of 28. Odds aren't really in my favor, are they?''

"You said that the virus is new. How would LeFeurve have known all of that?''

"Part of his research was to test the effects of the virus after he re-engineered it.''

''How does one test the effects of one's deadly virus? Lab rats?''

"No. People. Volunteers. Most of them were his co-workers or members of the Free French.''

''Why the hell would one volunteer for something when there is such a very good chance that one wouldn't survive?'' Moffitt shook his head in disbelief. "It's like giving death an open invitation.''

"You volunteered to come to war, didn't you, Jack?'' The corner of MJ's mouth lifted.

Moffitt thought about that. "Touché. So LeFeurve told you that he'd cured all of these people?''

MJ nodded. "He did, while were working. According to him, most of the men in his lab had had the virus and had survived it. Some had recovered only a few weeks prior.''

Moffitt wanted to discount anything that LeFeurve had said, but a kernel of the idea unexpectedly cheered him. He sat down on the lab bench to think. "You said that LeFeurve had evidence of the virus in his blood, didn't you? Do you think that he had cured himself? As part of one of his own experiments?''

''I still think it was from a vaccine that he had tested on himself.'' MJ frowned. "The man that he was standing with when we came in, Jacques Somme, was LeFeurve's first success at a cure, apparently. Which is fortunate for LeFeurve, because Somme is LeFeurve's right hand man.''

"And fortunate for Somme.''

"Yes, that's true.''

''I see. I'm surprised that we let Dr. Somme go that easily, then. Wouldn't he be able to recreate LeFeurve's work?'' Moffitt asked.

"Doubtful. LeFeurve did all of the work on the virus himself. It's typical of him. Well, was typical of him,'' MJ corrected. "If you don't have a partner, there's no need to share in the glory.''

Thinking of the body that Tully and Hitch were burying in the desert, Moffitt shook his head. "And we killed him. And very neatly and completely disposed of all of his research. So nothing to be gleaned from that.''

''No.''

Moffitt slid from his perch. "Well then, Dr. Knight, as our last remaining hope, I suppose that I had better let you get to it. Troy and the others don't have much time.'' Moffitt sighed. "And apparently, neither do you.''

''I'm not dead yet, Jack.'' MJ said bravely, as she picked up a slide and swabbed it with a sample of blood. "It's awful, rotten luck. All of it is. However, I don't plan to give up. And, I wouldn't think that you would, either.'' She looked up at him. ''If you were a quitter, you'd be dead by now. Long before you met me and long before you encountered this virus.''

Moffitt considered what MJ had said, his arms crossed against his chest. ''You're right, of course. I'm just tired, I think. And worried, of course.''

''Me too. But good news is, I think that I'm very, very close to finding a cure.''

"What progress are you making? Still working on how to kill the virus with an antibiotic cocktail?'' Moffitt reached out and took MJ's notebook. He looked at what MJ had captured on the page during the last phase of her research. ''Might as well be bloody hieroglyphics." Moffitt turned the notebook sideways and squinted at it. "Wait, no, I could read those,''

"Medical mumbo jumbo. Doesn't make a bit of sense to anyone else. And all doctors have awful handwriting, you know.'' MJ laughed before she began to cough again. "And yes, I'm still pursuing it. LeFeurve claimed that he had found it. If he can, then I can too.''

"I see. Quite right, too,'' murmured Moffitt. "If anyone could, it would be you, wouldn't it?''

"Your faith is touching, Jack, it really is. I can't tell you how much of a rock that you've been through all of this.'' MJ's eyes shone at Moffitt. "I don't know if I would have been able to do any of this without you.''

The words hit Moffitt hard. He paused a moment before he trusted his voice."Yes, you're probably right about that.''

"I know that I am.''

Running a hand around the back of his neck, Moffitt swallowed. "I'm going to keep doing what I feel that I need to do. There are sick men counting on me, just as they are on you. We can't let them down, can we?''

MJ nodded and then started coughing again, the heaving and choking shaking her body pitifully.

Moffitt handed her his last clean handkerchief. ''I had no idea that you were sick, Dr. Knight. I am sorry about that.''

''I didn't actually tell you now, did I? You've had people to look after here that were obviously sicker, so really, don't mention it. What would you have done anyway, Jack?"

While Moffitt realized that MJ's statement should have been comforting, somehow it underlined his uselessness. He continued to read what he could of her scribbling. "How long have you been sick? I thought that the last time you tested me, you said that you were fine, as well.''

Moffitt tried to remember when that was. All of the days had blended in one nightmarish string. He couldn't quite recall if it had been a day earlier, two, or three.

''Every time I tested myself, I was clear. Honestly. Late last night I started feeling odd, so I tested myself again. I found evidence of the virus in my blood."

''You seem sicker,'' Moffitt said slowly, thinking about how long it had taken Troy and the others to fall ill, ''than if you'd only been infected a short while ago.''

Looking up from the microscope, MJ refocused her eyes on Moffitt. ''Like I told you before, the younger you are, the more quickly you fail. Compare how ill Bader is to Dietrich and Troy.'' Her tone was impatient.

''Of course, so you've said, MJ.'' Moffitt nodded. ''How do you think that you contracted the virus?''

MJ added a few drops of a solution to a test tube and swirled it around. ''Not sure. The masks aren't foolproof and I've been reusing gloves. I could have pricked myself while cleaning a needle. I don't know.'' She stopped what she was doing and hacked again.

"Awful, rotten luck,'' said Moffitt softly. The short statement seemed to sum everything up nicely, he thought. "Can I do anything for you? I promised to help Tully and Hitch with a, erm, job, but I likely have a bit before they're ready for me.''

Looking up from the microscope, MJ wiped her brow. "Actually, you can. Can you get together some kit for me? I need to go and take some more blood from Troy and Dietrich.''

Feeling like he was somewhat of an expert at drawing blood after watching her take so much of his and that of the other men, Moffitt competently picked up the necessary tools and laid them out on a tray. Job done, Moffitt let his eyes wander. They came to rest on a black case that looked all too familiar.

"Need more material to work with?'' asked Moffitt. "I saw you taking blood from Bader yesterday. I would have thought that you would have had plenty.''

"Dietrich and Troy are at the peak of the disease. Their samples will help me immensely now. We used most of the samples of Bader's while LeFeurve and I were working. Wasted it really, I realize in hindsight.'' She looked over at Moffitt. "It's necessary, I'm afraid.''

"I understand. They're at the peak of the disease,'' he repeated. ''It all makes perfect sense now that you explain it,'' said Moffitt.

He reconsidered. "Nearly, at any rate.''

* * *

><p>Moffitt parked the jeep beside of where Tully and Hitch were passing the canteen.<p>

While obviously on a break, the evidence of their hard work was all around them in piles of sand, stone, and dirt.

"You're early, Moffitt. But we've still got some digging left, if you want to join in.'' Hitch snapped his gum and looked down into the hole.

It was not lost on Moffitt that Hitch was making every effort to avoid looking at him. It was not surprising. He was sure it would be a fair bit before either of them forgot about the altercation back at the camp. However, Moffitt knew from experience that forgiveness would be reached much more quickly than could forgetfulness.

Taking Hitch's shovel, Moffitt nodded. "Absolutely, it would be my pleasure.''

At that, Hitch looked Moffitt straight in the eye. "I don't expect you too, Moffitt. I was just kidding. It's fine. We don't mind to finish it. Actually, it feels good just to be doing something. Gets my mind off of everything.''

Tully nodded, trapping his matchstick between his teeth. "A little hard work is good for a man's soul.''

"Your pappy say that, too, Tully?'' Moffitt smiled.

"Well, now that you mention it. Yeah, he does.''

"Wise man. However, I think that we've more than established that.''

"We're going to be done soon, Moffitt.'' Hitch surveyed their work.

"Yeah. We're at better than half way through.'' Tully looked at LeFeurve's body, which had shifted in the back the jeep. "So things are going better for Sarge and the guys than they are for him?''

"I think that things could be looking up.'' Moffitt tilted his head thoughtfully.

Tully shifted the matchstick from one side of his mouth to the other and looked at Moffitt as if he was a puzzle that he was trying to figure out.

"Dr. Knight close to finding a cure?'' Hitch asked, noticeably brightening.

"I think that she shared some thoughts that will put us on the right track to one.''

''Hope this one works better than the last one.''

"Well, it couldn't work out any worse for anyone, could it now?'' Moffitt looked at LeFeurve's body again. A hand had snaked out from under the sheet and its fingertips were almost brushing the ground.

Despite himself, an involuntary shudder went through Moffitt. Whether it was at the macabre sight of the corpse or the memory of exactly how and why the man had wound up dead, Moffitt couldn't be sure. He just knew that he very much wanted to get the entire thing over and done with.

Sliding down in the hole, Moffitt began to dig out the rest of the depth needed to bury the body.

"Really, Sarge, we can do that,'' Hitch said. "I'm sure that there is something else that you could be doing.''

Moffitt stopped and squinted up at them. "Actually, there's something else that I would like for you both to be doing.''

The look that Hitch gave Tully was not lost on Moffitt. "What now?''

"There's more than a few hours of daylight left.''

Hitch looked at the horizon. True to Moffitt's word, the sun was still suspended a fair distance above it. "Yeah?''

"I want you to go back into that town. There's something that we need.''

"We're low on gas, Sarge.'' Tully said. "I'm not sure we'd make it to town. And if we did, we sure wouldn't make it back before the sun went down.''

"Well, if we siphoned the gas from one jeep to another, we'd probably have enough. We could get some more there,'' said Hitch. He looked to Tully for his opinion. "But we wouldn't be able to come back until morning.''

Moffitt had to agree that there wasn't a way around that and found it terribly unfortunate. ''I know that the timing leaves a little to be desired, but it really must be done. You'd need to come back as soon as dawn broke tomorrow.''

Tully shrugged and nodded. "Must be something pretty important if you want us to go back there.''

"Oh, it is, Tully. It truly is.''

* * *

><p>The afternoon had stretched on into evening.<p>

Moffitt leaned on the shovel and watched the sun shine its last over the horizon before it died.

Shaking his head, he went back to his work of throwing sand of LeFeurve's body. Moffitt knew that he needed to finish this task and head to his next. Troy and the others were always worse at night and Moffitt needed to get back to the little infirmary to look in on them. He was honestly dreading it. After all, it was only a matter of time before one of them wouldn't make it to see the next rebirth of the sun.

But, thought Moffitt, if they could all just make it one more night, then all likely would be well. It was a rather big if, Moffitt knew.

And speaking of ''ifs'' . . . If only, he thought as he heaved sand and rock, he had seen things more clearly even a day before then the outlook would have been brighter.

Moffitt gouged the shovel into the dirt and turned it over the grave with more effort than was needed. He continued at the same fervor and pace until he felt some of his anger and frustration retreat. Finally, breathing heavily and with the sudden chill of the evening air reaching him through his sweat soaked shirt, Moffitt stopped and looked at his work.

It was good enough, he decided, stripping off his gloves. LeFeurve was getting at least getting a decent burial, which was much more than what most men who died in the desert got.

It was probably more than the man deserved.

Looking at the grave, Moffitt found himself as devoid of any emotion as he had been when LeFeurve had died at his feet. He knew that he should be feeling something. The man truly was as much of a victim of their peculiar situation as anyone was, and still, Moffitt felt no pity. Try as he might, he could not make the man's death matter to him.

He thought about Tully's earlier statement, yet more wisdom dispensed and credited to the man's "pappy." Hard work may indeed be good for man's soul. What, Moffitt wondered, would Tully's pappy say that it would do for a man that had no soul left?

As he shouldered the shovel and walked back to the camp Moffitt pondered exactly what damage this particular battle in the war had done to him.

* * *

><p>After an exchange with MJ that left Moffitt feeling no better about anything, he went to check on their patients.<p>

Standing in the middle of the tent, Moffitt looked around him.

Troy was sleeping like the dead, though still very much alive. Bader had fallen into the same sleep the previous day, and it mostly untroubled and seemingly was misleading, Moffitt knew. While outwardly the men seemed to be resting, their bodies waged their final battles against the virus. That fight left them no energy for anything else.

Only Dietrich remained coherent enough to have a conversation.

Moffitt took advantage of the Dietrich's wakeful and coherent periods by engaging him. They had enough in common, through visiting each other's countries and having been in Africa both before and during the war, to have pleasant and interesting exchanges.

The fever had made Dietrich both unusually open and exceedingly direct. It was a much different Dietrich than Moffitt had ever had the opportunity to see. Admittedly, he was enjoying the other man's company. Even when Dietrich had suggested that they converse in French to avoid having Moffitt butcher the German language, Moffitt had found it amusing instead of insulting.

It was not lost on Moffitt that no matter how interesting the conversation had been that Dietrich's eyes kept wandering to Bader. Moffitt knew that he had been doing the same thing, sneaking looks in Troy's direction just to be sure that he was still breathing.

Dietrich began coughing and Moffitt handed him a cup of water. Dietrich took it and drank. When he handed it back to Moffitt, Dietrich's eyes remained on the cup and on Moffitt's hand.

Moffitt followed his gaze and realized why Dietrich was looking at it. The water in the cup was sloshing against the edge as his hand shook.

Dietrich eyed him intensely and appraisingly. "You are not well, Sergeant.''

"Maybe not I'm not well, but I'm not sick, either. Just tired.'' Moffitt put the cup down and rubbed at the permanent ache behind his eyes.

"That is not surprising. This cannot have been easy on you.''

"Easier on me than on you, I'd wager.'' A crooked smile followed Moffitt's words. "But certainly not a walk in the park for any of us. Not by any stretch.''

Dietrich looked to Troy and then back at Bader. His mouth had settled into a thin line. "It is the waiting that is the worst part.''

"Yes,'' Moffitt agreed. He leaned forward, resting his forearms and his weight on his thighs. "We've been doing a damn site too much waiting, if you ask me.''

"Tell me, Sergeant, do you still think that your incredible Dr. Knight will save us all?"

There was an odd look in Dietrich's eyes. Moffitt couldn't decide whether he should put it down to the fever or something else.

"After so many days, do you still have your faith a cure will be found by her?'' Dietrich continued on, the look still there.

"I have faith that a cure will be found,'' Moffitt said slowly. He let the sentence hang in mid air.

Dietrich nodded. "I think that is a wise stance to take. I would be careful, though, of having too much faith in some things.''

"Are you trying to tell me something, Captain?'' Moffitt knew that the answer to his own question was an affirmative. Though, he couldn't be absolutely sure of what Dietrich was trying to tell him. In Dietrich's current state, Moffitt told himself, it might have been part of his running commentary on the recent state of the Fatherland.

However, it very well might have been something else.

"I am trying to tell you what I can.'' Dietrich laid back and closed his eyes. "That is all that I can do. For young Bader's sake and for Troy's. And, for yours. Even you will not last much longer like this, Moffitt.''

"What about you?''

"There is still hope for us all. But, hope is not a strategy, is it? I would advise you to consider that if your plan does not change soon, then you might lose the war. Choose your allies carefully, Sargeant.'' Dietrich coughed again and then swallowed. A faint smile settled on his face. "But, as I talk to you, I think that you knew that already. Did you not?''

"Yes, I had finally figured it out. I just hope that it's not too late.''

* * *

><p>From all of his time spent in field hospitals, Moffitt knew that the hour just before dawn was not a man's friend.<p>

Often times, it was when the sick were sickest, when the mad were most insane, when the weak were weakest, and when those close to death perished. He looked at his watch, its hands glowing green and illuminating the darkest hour.

Putting an arm under his head, Moffitt looked up at the ceiling of the tent. The darkness swam before his eyes and he closed them.

A noise, likely from one of the men, woke him.

Sitting up on the cot, Moffitt rubbed his eyes. He looked at his watch again and found thirty minutes gone.

Getting up, Moffitt did his rounds. Troy and Bader were still as completely oblivious as they had been the night before. Moffitt checked the bags of solution that were their only current source of hydration and nourishment.

They could both do with a top off, Moffitt decided and he made a mental note to take care of it.

Moving to Dietrich, Moffitt knew that it had been the Captain who had made the noise that had woken him. Like the dreams of most of those that lived with the daily stress of battle, it looked less than pleasant.

Dietrich's face creased. "Wo sind meine Soldaten?'' he muttered. " Wo sind meine Manner?'' The last sounded more panicked and Moffitt watched as Dietrich grimaced.

Putting a hand on his shoulder, Moffitt whispered to him. "Ihre Manner sind sicher. Sie warten auf Sie, Herr Hautpmann.''

Dietrich frowned. "Das ist gut. Dieser Verdammt Rat Patrol. Verdammt Troy.'' Then, his face relaxed as he apparently slipped into a much deeper sleep.

It took a moment, but Moffitt soon found himself almost snorting with laughter. He nearly had to stuff his hand into his mouth to keep the sound in.

Moffitt resolved to remember to tell Troy that it was indeed just as they all had always suspected.

Dietrich really did dream about him.

* * *

><p>Moffitt expected to find MJ working.<p>

The empty tent was a bit of a surprise, but not a shock. Moffitt walked around the lab bench and frowned, checking the floor just in case she had collapsed. She had not. To Moffitt, it seemed that all of her equipment was present.

However, MJ Knight was nowhere to be seen.

Assuming that she had excused herself for a moment, Moffitt opened the cooler and removed two more bags of intravenous solution. He shut the chest door and straightened himself up, laying Troy's and Bader's next meal out on the table to warm.

Then, he frowned. Something, he realized wasn't right. Moffitt again bent down and opened the cooler. "Well, well, well,'' he said while looking inside.

Once again, Moffitt was surprised, but less than shocked. The cooler was emptier than expected. MJ normally kept blood samples and other things in the side compartment. They were no longer there.

Standing up again, Moffitt took a better look around the room. Not only were MJ and her samples missing, but also was her notebook. The knapsack that usually rested at the foot of the bed was gone, as well.

"Curiouser and curiouser,'' breathed Moffitt. However, unlike Alice, his surprise was not nearly so great that he had forgotten how to speak good English.

Holding a torch, Moffitt made his way to where Tully and Hitch normally parked the jeeps. Both jeeps were gone, not just one.

Moffitt put a hand on his hip, cocked his head, and listened to the darkness around him. There was not a sound that was out of place.

Certainly he would have heard a jeep if it had left in the relative quiet of the camp, if he had been awake, he reminded himself. He was so weary that it was doubtful that even Dietrich's entire Panzer column rolling through the camp would have disturbed his short rest.

Moffitt listened again, a keen and practiced ear working to separate the normal sounds of the desert from any other noise. There was nothing. Once again, Moffitt was not surprised.

Driving in the dark across the desert in a jeep was not the safest of courses. Neither was driving off in one that barely had a liter of petrol left in it.

Despite their apparent differences, thought Moffitt, Dr. Knight had at least one thing in common with Dr. LeFeurve.

She also was not as clever as she had thought that she was.


	10. On A Normal Day

When dawn arrived, it had occurred to Moffitt that he should perhaps go look for MJ.

There was a less than charitable part of Moffitt that thought that MJ deserved her current predicament. She would, he assumed, be back soon enough. Thinking about the imminent return of MJ, Moffitt tried to imagine what reason that she would give about why she had run off in the middle of the night.

Even after an hour, he had failed to think of one that would have made him less irritated than he currently felt.

Standing at the edge of the camp, Moffitt looked around. He could see no sign of MJ or the stolen jeep. Binoculars, thought Moffitt, would have been helpful. It was rotten luck that both pairs were in the respective jeeps, one set with Tully and Hitch, and the other pair was in the jeep with MJ.

Where ever she was.

Concern finally close to winning out over irritation, Moffitt had nearly convinced himself that he should go and look for her. After all, he told himself, if she had gotten six kilometers, she would have been lucky. It would take little more than an hour at a brisk pace to cover the ground in one direction to find her and to bring her back.

On the other hand, Moffitt knew, she could have gone in any direction and Moffitt did not relish the idea of tramping around in the sand in a circle to look for her. Tully and Hitch, with any luck, would return at any time and Moffitt knew that he needed to be there when they arrived.

Still squinting out at the horizon, Moffitt decided that the two boys could go and look for MJ. Having a jeep would make things infinitely easier and MJ could likely wait.

Just as they all had on her while she had searched unproductively for a cure.

* * *

><p>''Hey, Moffitt!'' Hitch called. "Where are you?''<p>

Moffitt looked up from the mirror, but didn't turn. "In here, Hitch.'' There was a momentary silence. Moffitt took advantage of it to finish shaving his chin.

'"We got what you sent us to town for.''

"Excellent! Come in, then.'' Picking up a towel, Moffitt wiped the rest of the soap from his face.

"Come in?'' There was hesitation in Hitch's voice at being directed into an area that, like the infirmary, had been off limits for so long.

Moffitt thought about how MJ had mostly cleaned the place out of anything that he would consider dangerous. "Don't worry, there's nothing much left in here that could harm you.''

The tent flap of MJ's former lab opened. A slice of light and a breath of heat entered with Hitch. Tully followed with another man in front of him.

Moffitt smiled at all of them. He walked over to the group and held out his hand to the man. The man hesitated.

''You must be Dr. Somme,'' said Moffitt, ''Sergeant Jack Moffitt. How do you do?''

''We have met before, if you recall, Sergeant Moffitt.'' Dr. Somme narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, of course. Lot going on that day, you know, and no time for formal introductions.'' Moffitt dropped his hand and wondered how upset Somme was with them.

Moffitt looked at Hitch and Tully. They weren't carrying any weapons other than their ever present side arms and they looked relaxed. Both were good signs that indicated that Dr. Somme had come with them willingly.

"Any trouble getting things done?'' Moffitt asked them, just to be sure.

"Nah,'' said Hitch, ''We found Dr. Somme no problem. He met us just where Captain Boggs said that he would. The doctor has been real cooperative."

"Piece of cake,'' confirmed Tully.

Grinning faintly at Tully quoting him, Moffitt turned his attention back to Somme. ''I am sure that you were told why we wished to see you, Dr. Somme.''

Somme nodded. "I received the initial information from the French Underground and then additional details from your men. I understand that some members of your group are ill because of exposure to the virus that you helped Dr. Knight take from the lab.'' His eyes went around MJ's former lab, lingering on the equipment that she had been using up until the time when she had bolted. "Where is Dr. Knight?''

"Oh, she's around.'' Moffitt decided to tell a bit more of the truth. "But I'm not honestly sure that I know where.''

Tully and Hitch looked at one another.

Finally, Somme showed some expression. He smiled. "That sounds very much like Dr. Knight, Sergeant. At least from what I have heard from Dr. LeFeurve.''

"Yes, I don't think that he was necessarily a member of her appreciation society.''

"No, but I think membership to that is large enough.'' Dr. Somme was still smiling.

"Numbers might be getting shorter by the day,'' Moffitt murmured. He crossed his arms against his chest as if trying to keep his irritation at MJ from spilling out.

"I see that you have gotten to know Dr. Knight quite well then, Sergeant.'' Still, the man smiled.

"At any rate, you know that we have sick men here. Is there something that can be done to counteract the effects of the virus? Is there a cure that you can give them?''

The smile left Dr. Somme's face. "There is no magic potion that we have found that will cure a virus. That much holds true throughout the history of medicine, though many will continue to try.''

Moffitt blinked, trying hard to comprehend Dr. Somme's words. "What?'' he asked as all the hope that he had been holding slipped away. "But, Dr. LeFeurve told Dr. Knight that there was a cure for the virus. An antibiotic?''

"This is a virus, not a bacteria, antibiotics would be of no help. I am not sure why Dr. LeFeurve would have mentioned that. Perhaps he meant antibodies? His English is not always strong.''

Moffitt shrugged. He had no way of knowing what the man had meant. It had seemed at the time that it had made sense to MJ, so Moffitt hadn't questioned it.

''There was a vaccine, Sergeant. That much is true. Or, at least there was, before you,'' Dr. Somme paused to looked pointedly at Hitch, ''blew it up.''

Hitch had the good grace to take a moment to study his boots.

"You destroyed all of our research, including the vaccine that we had produced. I had attempted save some samples of it and my notes, but I seem to remember being dissuaded from doing so. I believe that I was told that stupidity would get me killed.''

"I believe that was indeed what you were told.''

"How many people may you have killed by stupidly destroying a vaccine that would prevent an out beak of a deadly disease?"

Not in the mood to discuss the circumstances that had led to what he felt was by this point a rhetorical question and a moot point, Moffitt ignored Somme's lament. "The vaccine would prevent the sickness.'' Moffitt, while not an expert in the field of medicine, at least felt that he knew how that worked.

"That is correct. A vaccine is only a prevention. In some cases, a vaccine may also shorten effects of a virus, but not so in this case. So, rest assured, you did not destroy any cure.'' Somme looked again to Hitch. ''If that makes your sleep easier, gentlemen.''

Moffitt thought that it might, as it was one less thing that they all had to regret. "So, there's no medicine that will cure or treat the virus?''

"No, nothing of the sort.''

Moffitt sat down heavily on the lab bench, his last hope now slipping away with every other one that he had ever held. "But Dr. LeFeurve told Dr. Knight that he had found a cure, that you yourself had been ill and that he had cured you. As he had most of the men that worked with you.''

"It is true that I was infected and lived, as did most of the others. However, Dr. LeFeurve never discovered what I would call a cure.''

Moffitt did not know whether to become hysterical or to faint. Hysteria seemed to be winning by the smallest of margins. "Dr. Somme, are you telling me that there is nothing that can be done?''

"No, that is not what I am saying.'' Dr. Somme's face softened. "There is something that can be done, Sergeant, to increase the odds of survival.''

In a mere moment, Moffitt found that his hands were gripping the lapels of Somme's jacket. "Well, what is it, man? What can you do? Anything!'' Giving the man a shake, Moffitt growled. "Tell me!''

It was easy for Moffitt to see the fright in the man's pale eyes. He found that he did not care. If anything, he had a strong desire to make the man feel anything that would get him to assist them.

Tully was behind Moffitt in an instant. A large hand settled between Moffitt's shoulders. "Sarge, maybe you ought to let the fellow talk first before you get so upset?''

Letting his hands drop, Moffitt stepped back. He took a deep and shaky breath and ran his hands through his hair. "Quite right. I seem to be a bit overwrought. My apologies, Dr. Somme."

"It is never easy watching anyone die, especially when it is someone for whom that you care. I understand that all too well.'' Dr. Somme walked over and looked at the equipment that MJ had left behind. "I will need to do some tests first, to ensure that what we are going to do will not cause more damage. If done incorrectly, then the treatment would become just as fatal as the disease.''

"What is that you are going to do?" Moffitt did not like the sound of what the doctor was saying. Replacing one threat of death with another one was not his idea of an ideal solution.

Looking up from his inspection of MJ's abandoned microscope, Dr. Somme smiled at Moffitt. "I am sure that you are familiar with the practice of blood transfusion, Sergeant?''

* * *

><p>Moffitt stood outside of the tent with Tully and Hitch while Somme worked where MJ had been working merely hours before.<p>

Moffitt hoped that Somme would have greater success. Moffitt thought about the explanation of the treatment that Somme had given him. It hardly sounded like the magnificent cure that MJ had promised them all. It was simple and as Dr. Somme had explained it to Moffitt, it had made perfect sense.

Moffitt's eyes travelled over to the small group of men that stood by the truck that had carried them and Dr. Somme's equipment into the camp. Those men, according to Somme, were the key to the only hope that Troy, Dietrich, and Bader had for survival.

Ordinary looking Frenchmen made extraordinary by the fact that they had beaten a deadly enemy and that they could potentially help others to do the same.

"I wonder,'' Moffitt murmured out loud as he thought it, "What MJ would say about all of this?''

"Um, Sarge,'' asked Tully. "Where exactly is Dr. Knight?''

"Well, you'll notice that one of the jeeps is missing. I'm afraid that she went missing with it.''

Hitch's mouth dropped open. "Are you saying that she stole our jeep and ran off?''

Moffitt nodded. "Yes, that is indeed what it appears has happened.''

"Where the heck would she go?''

Tully chuckled. "Well, if she took that jeep, not too far. Wasn't much left but fumes left in the tank.''

"Exactly. I don't suppose that you gentlemen wouldn't like to go and see if you could find her, would you?''

Moffitt had expected, honestly, for MJ to have come crawling back to the camp with a charming smile on her face and some fantastic explanation as to where and why she had gone falling easily from her lips. It had not happened as predicted and Moffitt found it worrying.

"Sure,'' Hitch said. ''We can do that. Shouldn't take too long.''

Moffitt nodded. "Yes, that was my thought. I'll stay here and observe Dr. Somme just to make sure that we don't have any accidents.''

"Accidents?''

"Yes.'' Moffitt hoped that Dr. Somme, while also a member of the Free French, was not quite as extreme in his views. While the end that he would meet may not be as dramatic as Dr. LeFeurve's, it would be an end just the same.

Tully and Hitch looked at one another, fully aware that there was something that they were missing.

Finally, Tully shrugged. "All right, Hitch. Let's go find Dr. Knight before she gets herself well done out there.'' Tully put a matchstick in his mouth and then turned to go.

''Make sure that when you find her that you are wearing your masks,'' Moffitt called after them.

"Why? Dr. Knight's not sick,'' Hitch said, turning to face Moffitt.

"Better safe than sorry. On your way, then.''

Without anything but another look exchanged between them that made it obvious that they knew that there were several things Moffitt was not telling them, Tully and Hitch left.

Moffitt heard the engine of the jeep gun and then watched as it drove away, carrying Hitch and Tully on their mission to find the errant Dr. Knight.

* * *

><p>Alone, Moffitt's eyes went back to the men that Somme had brought with him. There were four of them, lounging around the truck, seemingly without a concern in the world. According to Somme, the men had all recovered from the virus, some not more than two weeks prior.<p>

They all looked healthy enough, Moffitt thought.

He hoped that in two weeks time, he was thinking the same about Troy.

* * *

><p>"Your men knew the blood group of Sergeant Troy, so it was not difficult to determine what donor to bring with me for his treatment," Somme said. He finished taking Troy's vitals and made a few notes on a chart. Finally satisfied, he nodded. "Please begin, Henri.''<p>

Moffitt watched as both the donor, one of the men that Somme had brought with him, and the recipient, Troy, as they were joined together by tubing and rather wicked looking needles. The flow of bright red blood began between them, hopefully carrying a substance that would give Troy's body the ability to fight off the virus.

"And what of the other men?'' asked Moffitt. "Did you bring suitable donors for them? You said that you did not know their blood types.''

"From the recovered men in our group, I was able to locate two with the universal O type.'' Somme nodded to his orderly. "If you would, Henri, the youngest man first.''

Henri called out something to one of the other men. They both went to Bader's bedside and Henri began his work. It was not lost on Moffitt that they were commenting in French on the boy's state of health and his relative closeness to death. The exchange led to further predictions of the possible ineffectiveness of the procedure.

Moffitt closed his eyes and wished that he could pray to any god. When he found that he could not, he opened his eyes and found Somme looking at him.

"I recall that you speak at least some French, Sergeant. Obviously, it is enough that their comments were not lost on you."

"No, I understood quite well what they said, though I wish that I hadn't. I could use a little more blissful ignorance in my life. I find that I quite miss it, actually.''

Somme put his hand on Moffitt's arm. "Despite what they said, all hope is not gone. We did have success with this course of treatment for men who were in the final stages of the illness. Though, I feel the need to share with you that the rate of success is lower.''

"I see.'' Moffitt sighed and then looked at Dietrich who was sleeping through all of the activity around him. "And the other man?''

"After examining him, I would say that he has the best chance of all to beat the virus. He may have quite possibly recovered on his own, given time.''

Moffitt nodded, not surprised by the diagnosis. He would expect no less from Dietrich. After all, the man had made a career of getting knocked and getting back up for more. That sheer force of will had allowed him to survive things that his comrades had not.

"Come then, let us start his treatment, as well. Even if not entirely necessary, it will do nothing but to improve his odds of survival.'' Somme moved over to Dietrich's bed and Moffitt followed.

Somme gestured to the last man standing. Obediently, the man came to lay down on the gurney that was placed next to Dietrich's bed. Somme began the same preparations that Moffitt had now observed twice before.

When the catheter went into Dietrich's arm, his eyes flew open. He began to struggle to set up in bed. "Was ist das?'' Dietrich asked, a note of panic in his voice. "Was machen Sie mit mir?''

Moffitt put his hand on Dietrich's shoulder and gently pushed him back on the bed. "Bitte sind sie sich Beruhigen, Dietrich.''

At Moffitt's touch and at the sound of his voice, Dietrich frowned but laid back. "Sehr gut, dann.''

Dr. Somme was looking at Moffitt. The man who was to be Dietrich's donor had sat up on his cot.

"This man is a German, Sergeant,'' Somme said, quietly stating the obvious.

"Yes, he's German. Is that going to be a problem for you, Dr. Somme?'' Moffitt asked, thinking once again of how and why Dr. LeFeurve had met his end.

"I had understood that these were Allied soldiers.'' Somme frowned. "This man is our enemy.''

"On a normal day, he's also mine. This is not a normal day. I'm very much invested in keeping him alive. I hope that you feel the same way?'' Hoping to send a not so subtle message, Moffitt's hand went to his side arm. "Think very carefully about your answer and how you are going to proceed next, Doctor.''

"We will continue as planned with his treatment.'' Dr. Somme told his man to lie back down and then turned back to Moffitt. "You are lucky that it was me whom you managed to locate, Sergeant Moffitt. There are some who are hell bent on destroying the Bosche at any cost."

"Yes, I've run into at least one of them lately. I hope that you honestly don't feel the same way, Dr. Somme?''

Dr. Somme inclined his head. "I support the cause of a Free France. I am also a doctor. As a doctor, I will do what is needed to save a man, regardless of his allegiance or his nationality. And my men will follow my lead.'' Somme went back to what he had been doing.

Nodding, Moffitt did not move his hand away from his gun. "I am glad to see that you are more reasonable that Dr. LeFeurve was.''

"Was,'' Dr. Somme repeated, not looking up. "When I did not see him here, I had assumed that Dr. LeFeurve was dead. I am right, no?''

"You are correct in you assumption.''

Somme gave a long sigh and shook his head. "May God have mercy on his soul.'' Momentarily, he stopped what he was doing and crossed himself. "And I am also assuming that his extreme views resulted in the end of his life?''

"That would also be correct.'' Moffitt remembered that Somme had been LeFeurve's long time partner in his research. The news of LeFeurve's death must mean more to him than it had to Moffitt. "I am sorry to have to tell you that he is dead.''

"And I am sorry to hear it. Dr. LeFeurve was a brilliant scientist. However, his fervor to end the German occupation of France was beginning to make him . . . unstable.''

Unstable was a bit of what Moffitt would consider a weak word when used to describe LeFeurve. He snorted. "The man was insane.''

"Perhaps. But Pierre LeFeurve was not always such a radical, Sergeant. It happened after the Bosche killed his wife and child very brutally. The treatment that his wife received at their hands was particularly hideous." Somme removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "That type of grief does strange things to some men.''

Moffitt nodded with some understanding, but found that he was hardly able to empathize. Wanting to kill every German that one saw just to avenge a personal loss seemed extreme. Moffitt felt lucky that he had not experienced any actual close personal losses during the war. Fate willing, it would stay that way. If not, he hoped that he would bear it better than LeFeurve had.

Dr. Somme, his work finished, stood. "Engineering the virus to make it a weapon was not anything that I had a part in, Sergeant. I also wanted to be sure that you knew that. I worked on the vaccine, not the virus itself.'' His pale eyes looked earnestly into Moffitt's.

"I had heard that from Dr. Knight.''

"I did not approve of Dr. LeFeurve's efforts to create a plague that would be used as a weapon. However, if you do not know about something, it is difficult to stop it. You can only hope to mitigate the potential damages.''

Moffitt thought that truer words had never been spoken. Somme stepped away from Dietrich's bed and Moffitt moved with him. Silently, they surveyed the scene before them.

Finally, Somme spoke again. "None of the men that you see before you volunteered to be infected with the virus, Sergeant. Much like your friends, they were unwilling victims.''

Moffitt was hardly surprised to hear that. "And what about you, Dr. Somme? You were infected. Was that by choice?''

Somme smiled faintly. "I infected myself while testing the vaccine.''

"Well, that was unfortunate.''

"Yes, but I was aware of the chance that I was taking and the probable consequences. I made the gamble in hopes of advancing my research.''

"That's more than a bit reckless, even in the name of science.''

Somme shrugged. "It is not an uncommon thing in my field.''

"Risky,'' Moffitt said, finally.

"More risky than four men taking on entire German Panzer columns with only two jeeps? I think not.'' Somme looked more than a bit amused. "Private Hitchcock shared with me stories about what your team does to fight the war. When you are not blowing up research facilities at the direction of Dr. Knight, of course.''

"Point taken. But, risky or not, we all seem to manage to get through it, though, week after week.''

"We have all lived to tell our tales,'' Somme agreed.

Moffitt nodded, hoping that very shortly, Troy, Bader, and Dietrich would be able to continue to say the same.


	11. What May Be

"So what now?'' Moffitt asked Somme.

"And now, we wait.'' Somme looked at him with some sympathy. "I realize that is not the answer for which you may have been hoping, Sergeant Moffitt. But it is honestly the only one that I have to give to you.''

It indeed was not the answer for which Moffitt had been hoping. He smothered his frustration.

After all, they had waited this long, Moffitt told himself. Why not wait some more?

With an appraising and professional gaze, Somme studied Moffitt. "I would suggest that why we wait, you get some rest, Sergeant.''

''No, I'd rather not if it's all the same to you.''

''Ah.'' Understanding lit Somme's eyes. ''I understand your concerns. But surely, one of the privates can stay here with us?''

Moffitt shook his head. "I can't let them in here. I made a promise.''

"I see.'' Somme nodded. "And you do not trust me, or my men, based on your interactions with Dr. LeFeurve. Would it make a difference if I told you that I believe that you are endangering your own health by pushing yourself past a point of extreme exhaustion?''

"Not really.''

"I thought not.'' Somme smiled. "Well, then let it be then what it will be. The transfusions are complete. The donors will rest a bit and then they will go back to town. Henri and I will stay here as long as needed to help. But if you do not trust us, that does not really help to ease your burden, does it?''

Moffitt couldn't disagree with Somme, but ignored his comment. "How long do you think that the recovery will take?''

Somme shrugged. "If the treatment is successful, I would say a week for Troy and the boy. Maybe more, maybe less. It could be as short as a few days for the German captain.''

Moffitt wondered if he could last another week of not sleeping and barely eating. He was not certain that he would. He realized that his lack of faith in himself to endure must have shown on his face.

''Perhaps Dr. Knight may be able to assist you in watching them?'' Somme suggested. "She is a thoroughly competent physician from all accounts that I have heard.''

Moffitt looked at Somme.

"Oh, that's right. You do not know where she is.'' Somme looked thoughtful. "Surely you sent Hitchcock or Pettigrew to look for her?''

"I did.'' Moffitt was surprised that they had not returned. Not only did he have to worry about Troy, Dietrich, and Bader, but now also about MJ, Tully, and Hitch.

"I am sure that they will find her soon, Sergeant.'' Somme studied Moffitt again, his eyes coming to rest on the dressing that covered Moffitt's nearly forgotten head wound. "How did you injure yourself, Sergeant?''

"Oh, that? Happened almost a lifetime ago.'' At the reminder, Moffitt put his hand to his head. "It was nothing, a bit of scratch. Has a few stitches in it.''

Somme smiled. "Perhaps you should let me look at it. Likely the sutures should be removed if it really happened all that long ago. If not, then I should clean the wound and change the dressing. It is rather filthy.'' Somme gestured for Moffitt to sit down. He called to Henri over his shoulder and motioned to Moffitt's head. Henri brought a tray containing a pair of small scissors and tweezers.

Dr. Somme uncovered the wound. "Tell me what you hope to do when the war is over, Sergeant Moffitt. To pass the time?''

For lack of anything else to do, Moffitt answered the doctor's question while Somme began to remove the sutures from his skin. Moffitt flinched and stopped talking.

Somme immediately stopped what he was doing and looked down. "Did I hurt you, Sergeant?''

"Oh, no. It's just a rather disconcerting feeling, having something pulled from your skin, you know.''

Somme smiled. "Yes, I know. It will be over soon.'' In another minute, Somme patted Moffitt's shoulder, while he continued to peer over his glasses at Moffitt's head. ''It is finished. Dr. Knight did this?''

Moffitt nodded. "I thought it rather unnecessary, but she insisted.''

''I think that it was wise. She definitely had your best interests at heart. She did a fine job, as well. You will likely not even have a scar to show for your trouble.''

"That's something, I suppose. I think that I could do without adding another one to the collection.'' Moffitt lifted an experimental eyebrow.

"I am sure. Please try not to get it wet for a few more days, hmmmm?'' Somme put his tools back on the tray and Henri came to retrieve them.

"Thank you, Dr. Somme.'' Moffitt's ears pricked at the sound of a jeep rolling into camp. He turned his head towards the entrance of the tent. "That would be Tully and Hitch.''

"And with them, I'm sure, is Dr. Knight.''

"I should hope.''

"Hey, Sarge,'' Tully's voice carried easily into the tent. "You'd better come out here.''

Moffitt moved to get up and the stopped. He looked at Dr. Somme.

"It seems that you have a dilemma, Sergeant. Either you trust me, or you do not,'' Somme spread his hands wide. "Your men need you. You will not allow them to come in here. Will you go to them?''

"Moffitt!" it was Hitch this time. There was an edge to his voice that Moffitt recognized. It made the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

Moffitt looked back at Dr. Somme.

"Go. No harm will come to your friends. I swear it.''

Still, Moffitt hesitated.

Somme studied Moffitt's conflicted face. "I will come with you, then. Henri can take our donors to the other tent. They can finish their rest period there before they leave us.''

"Is there any danger of leaving Troy and the others alone so soon after the procedure?''

"No, not at all. Any adverse reaction would have occurred by now. Henri has been monitoring them closely and there have been no concerns.'' Somme looked to Henri and Henri nodded.

"Moffitt! Please?'' Hitch's voice came again, almost pleading.

"Fine,'' said Moffitt, making his decision. "Come along, then, Dr. Somme.''

Somme called to Henri and gave him the needed instructions. Henri gathered the other men and led them out of the tent. Moffitt and Somme followed them.

"Moffitt, over here!''

Moffitt took off at a sprint towards Tully and Hitch with Dr. Somme close behind him. Arriving at the jeep, Moffitt's mouth dropped open. He looked from Hitch to Tully.

"What the bloody hell happened to her?'' Moffitt asked.

MJ lay on the ground on a stretcher. There was a profusion of blood coating her face. In addition, Moffitt could see where either Hitch or Tully had split her pant leg to her thigh. They had done a rough job of splinting her lower leg.

Dr. Somme pushed by Moffitt and knelt by MJ, professionally and methodically checking her injuries. Moffitt watched him for a moment, trying not to read too much into the man's expression.

"What happened?'' Moffitt asked again.

"She wrecked the jeep,'' Tully said. "Jeep's in better shape than she is, though.''

Moffitt felt like someone had doused with cold water. "How far did she get?''

"About two miles, so not too far away at all.'' Hitch shook his head. "Good thing that we found her when we did. She would have baked out there soon. She's burning up now as it is. It's not even that hot out here yet.''

His stomach churning, Moffitt put a hand on the back of the jeep to steady himself. If only he had gone and looked for her, Moffitt thought, he could have spared her that. He tried to remember why had not done so.

"Sergeant, we should move her to the tent so that I can treat her. Her injuries are superficial, a fractured leg, a possible concussion, and mild dehydration."

"Good news then,'' said Moffitt, immensely relieved that MJ was not seriously injured.

"However, there is something else.'' Dr. Somme frowned but did not continue.

"What?'' Moffitt asked.

"Were you aware that she was infected with the virus?''

"I thought . . .'' Moffitt's voice trailed off. He looked at Hitch and Tully. They were looking at him.

"I thought that she might have been,'' Moffitt said, finally. "I wasn't sure.''

"Not sure?'' asked Dr. Somme.

Moffitt nodded, not willing to say anything else. Hitch and Tully, wearing their masks as ordered, raised their eyebrows at each other.

Henri had returned from settling the other men to rest in the lab. He looked down at MJ and then at Dr. Somme. "It is Dr. Knight,'' he said, surprise in his voice. "She is injured.''

"Yes, Henri. Help me with the stretcher, if you please.'' Dr. Somme picked up one end of the stretcher as Henri attended to the other end. They went off in the direction of the infirmary their burden between them.

Moffitt stared after them. Tully nudged him. "Sarge,"" Tully asked, ''aren't you going to go see what's going on?''

Shaking himself, Moffitt nodded. "Of course.'' He started jogging after the stretcher.

"Well, let us know, will you?'' Hitch called out. "We're going to go out here in a while to bring the other jeep back in, okay?''

Moffitt didn't bother to turn around. He waved his hand as permission to Tully and Hitch to proceed. Then, he ducked into the infirmary.

Screens were now around the bed that was farthest from the tent's other long time inhabitants. Moffitt could hear Somme discussing something with Henri.

Moffitt slid in between the screens and joined the Frenchmen. "Her injuries aren't life threatening? You're sure?'' Moffitt asked on behalf of his very guilty conscience.

Somme shook his head. "No, not at all. The cut in her head looks worse that it is, you know how they bleed.'' His eyes went to where he had just removed the stitches from Moffitt's own wound. "And the broken leg is not serious. Not pleasant, but certainly, nothing complex. Her injuries do not concern me."

"Well, that's good news.''

"Not entirely. What does concern me is the virus.''

"I see,'' said Moffitt. He watched Henri clean the blood from MJ's face. True to Somme's diagnosis, the head wound did indeed look insignificant.

"Did you know that Dr. Knight was infected?'' Somme sat down on MJ's bed and took a stethoscope from the pocket of his lab jacket.

"She had told me that,'' Moffitt admitted.

Somme nodded. ''So you are not surprised then.''

Moffitt was surprised, but he said nothing.

Somme parted MJ's blouse and listened to her lungs, moving the stethoscope around her chest. Finally, he sat up and took the ear pieces from his ears. "When did she tell you that she was ill?''

"Last evening.''

"Did she say how long she had known that she was infected?''

"She said that she had found out the night before.''

Somme looked at Moffitt like he didn't believe him. "Her health is much poorer than it should be, if that were true, Sergeant.''

"Yes.'' Moffitt remembered his own similar observations that had led him to the obviously erroneous conclusion that MJ had been pulling one over on him.

"Though the virus does work more quickly in some that in others.'' Somme frowned.

"Yes, I've seen that first hand. Age and other factors determine the quickness of the onset of the most serious symptoms.''

"It is unfortunate, Sergeant, that you have had the opportunity to become such an expert in this area. You are correct. Of course, it may also depend on how she contracted it. Did Dr. Knight share that with you?''

"No, she did not. She actually said that she didn't know how she had been exposed to it.''

Somme looked thoughtful. He pulled open one of MJ's eyes. "I think that she will be conscious soon. I have a few questions that I will ask her.''

Moffitt narrowed his eyes. "And why do you think that she will tell you when she did not tell me?''

"Professional courtesy, perhaps? Does it make a difference, Sergeant?''

"No, I suppose not.'' Moffitt could agree that how MJ was infected did not have any bearing on the situation. A situation that Moffitt couldn't help but to think that he had likely exacerbated by his inaction. "It probably makes more of a difference that I let her lie in the desert for most of the morning.''

"You are not to blame for her illness or the serverity of her condition. Please believe me when I say that.''

As reassuring as the doctor's words were meant to be, Moffitt found them cold comfort.

"Please go sit with the other men. Henri and are going to do a more thorough job of examining Dr. Knight, just to be sure that we are not missing any injuries. When we have finished treating her, we will call you back in. Hopefully, she will be conscious by then.''

Dumbly, Moffitt nodded. "Will you also be able to treat her infection with virus in the same way that you did for Troy and the others?''

"I see no reason why not, Sergeant.'' Somme touched Moffitt on the hand. "There is a good possibility that Dr. Knight will be well soon enough. Please do not worry. Henri and I will take excellent care of her. I hope that by now, you trust me?''

"Do I have a choice?''

"Certainly, you do. You can stay and watch,'' said Somme. "If that is what you want.''

Moffitt wasn't sure that it was, but he stayed anyway.

* * *

><p>Moffitt sat down in the chair that was beside of Dietrich's bed.<p>

He put his head in his hands and thought about what had happened.

"Moffitt? What is wrong?'' Dietrich asked. He pulled himself up into a half sitting position. "Troy and Bader, they are all right?''

Moffitt lifted his head and looked at Dietrich. "They're about the same, I think. How are you?''

As if running down a mental checklist, Dietrich finally nodded. "Better, perhaps, today than yesterday,'' he said, finally. "My head feels clearer and it is a bit easier to breath.''

"Good,'' said Moffitt, meaning it. If Dietrich was on the mend, then it was at least something.

"But what is wrong with you? It is something, and if not Troy and Bader,'' understanding dawned in Dietrich's eyes, "then it is Dr. Knight?''

"Yes.'' Moffitt sat back in the chair and looked up at the ceiling. "She managed to have an accident in one of the jeeps.''

"Is she badly injured?''

"No, Dr. Somme didn't seem to think so.''

"Well, that is good news.'' Dietrich inclined his head. ''Is there something else?''

"She's ill to boot.''

"Ill? You mean with the virus?''

"Yes.''

"I see.'' Dietrich considered what Moffitt had told him. "Do you know where she was going when she had her accident in the jeep?''

"No. She borrowed it early this morning and took off before dawn.''

"That was unwise.''

"I would say so.''

"When you say, borrow . . . Do you mean stole?''

Moffitt all too easily recognized the calculating shrewdness that had replaced the feverish glint in Dietrich's eye. The man must truly be on the mend, thought Moffitt. "Yes, that's what I mean. She ran off while I was napping.''

"Do you know why?''

"No, no idea. She's unconscious now, but when she comes to, I plan on asking her.''

"I am sure that whatever she has to say will be most interesting.'' Dietrich's lips settled into a thin line.

"Oh, I'm sure that it will be. Always is. I just wonder what I'm going to say to her.'' Moffitt shook his head. "She told me that she was sick. I didn't believe her and then, I didn't go after her, Dietrich. I should have.''

"She made her own decision to leave, did she not?''

Moffitt nodded.

"Did she consult you about what she was about to do?''

"No. If she had, I would have told her that driving across this part of the desert in the dark was an exceedingly bad idea.''

''If she had told you that she was leaving, or that she wished to leave, would you have dissuaded her?''

"Yes, I would have. I would have tied her to a chair if I'd had to.'' Moffitt's response was quick and sure.

Dietrich shrugged. "Well, I would advise you to let your conscience rest, Sergeant Moffitt. You could not have stopped her because you did not know that she was leaving. You could not have known that she would have injured herself. You knew that she was ill, but so did she. All of Dr. Knight's decisions were her own. You should assign no blame to yourself for them.''

For a man that had until recently been out of his head with fever, Dietrich's reasoning was perfectly logical.

Moffitt nodded. "I would agree, but easier said than done, I'm afraid.''

"Also, have you considered that all signs point to the fact that she did not want you to know that she was leaving? Or why?''

"Yes, but . . .''

"But nothing, Sergeant. Has it occurred to you that if Dr. Knight did not tell you where and why she was going, it may have been because she suspected that you would not have approved of her actions.''

Once again, Moffitt suspected that Dietrich was trying to tell him something. "What are you saying, Herr Hauptmann?''

"Nothing that you do not already know, Sergeant Moffitt.'' Dietrich turned his head away from Moffitt.

Moffitt wasn't entirely sure what he knew and what he did not. He attempted to ask Dietrich another question.

Dietrich did not answer.

He appeared to have once again fallen asleep.

* * *

><p>"Has anyone told you yet today that you look like hell?''<p>

Moffitt started. He looked over to the cot where MJ lay. "I could say the same about you, actually, Dr. Knight.''

MJ grimaced. "Yes, I'm sure. Neither of us is as pretty as we once were, Jack.'' She looked down at her leg. "Seems that I did some damage to myself, doesn't it?''

"You did at that.'' Moffitt sighed. "Considering your current condition, I will spare you the lecture that about how stupid your actions were. Even though you very much deserve it.''

"If you spare me, I'll spare you.''

"From what?''

"From having to answer my question of why you didn't come look for me when I didn't come back.'' MJ frowned. "Especially when you knew that I couldn't have gotten very far. That wasn't very chivalrous of you, Jack.'' MJ narrowed her eyes.

"No. I suppose that it wasn't.''

"I think that I might have had you pegged wrong this entire time. Usually, I don't make that kind of mistake.'' MJ looked away from him and up at the ceiling of the tent. "I must be slipping.''

Moffitt almost winced as MJ effectively stabbed at the sore spot in his conscience. "I should have come to look for you, MJ,'' he admitted. "I am very sorry that I did not.''

"Me too.''

Once that he had gotten over the shock and regret that she had not offered her forgiveness to him, Moffitt replayed what MJ had said in his head. "Wait. What do you mean? When you said that I knew that you couldn't have gotten very far?'' he repeated.

"I am assuming that you knew how much fuel that jeep had in it.''

"Yes, I did. You knew that as well?'' Moffitt was surprised.

"Jack, I may be a woman, but I'm completely familiar with how the fuel gauge in a jeep works.''

"Of course,'' said Moffitt. "Silly of me. So you weren't planning on going a very long distance, then?''

"So, it would seem.'' MJ began coughing. "Water, please?'' she croaked.

Moffitt handed her a cup of water. He waited until she finished coughing before he took the cup out of her hand. "Why did you leave, MJ? Where were you going? Were you planning to come back? Why in the world would you not tell me that you were going?'' In his own ears, the tone of his voice was accusing as he rapidly fired off all of his questions.

However, Moffitt still was not quite certain of what he was accusing her.

"Jack, if I told you, it would change everything.''

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?'' Moffitt exploded. Between Dietrich and MJ, he had had rather enough of questions answered only by mysterious riddles. "For Christ's sake, just tell me!''

"Are you sure that you want to know? Think about it carefully before you answer.''

"Of course I do!''

MJ, began to say something else, but very conveniently Moffitt felt, started coughing violently.

Moffitt waited for her to stop.

When she did not, he began to become concerned about her. When her face turned purple, he became more concerned yet.

"Dr. Somme?'' Moffitt called. "Dr. Knight seems to be having a rather difficult coughing spell."

Dr. Somme pushed his head past the curtain. Moffitt vacated the chair by MJ's bed so that the doctor could sit down. Dr. Somme propped MJ into a sitting position but did little else.

MJ continued to cough. Her lips became blue.

Part of Moffitt wanted to demand that Dr. Somme to do something to help her. His more reasonable side realized that MJ was showing the same behavior as had Bader and Troy had as their sickness had progressed. From his own frustrating experience, he knew that there was nothing that could be done. Each passing and powerless second that went by pained Moffitt more than the last.

Finally, MJ stopped coughing. Her head limply fell to the side. If not for her raspy quick breaths, Moffitt would have asked Dr. Somme if she was dead. Dr. Somme wiped MJ's mouth with a damp rag, removing the bloody froth that had gathered at the corners. He got up. "Sergeant Moffitt, a word if I may?''

Moffitt nodded and followed Dr. Somme out into the tent itself. "She's really not very well, is she?''

"No. She has an extremely high concentration of the virus in her blood. It is quite unusual.'' Somme looked back in the direction where MJ lay. "I need to administer the same treatment to Dr. Knight that I did to the others, Sergeant. As quickly as possible.''

"Well, then what's stopping you, man? Get on with it.'' Moffitt snapped.

"Her blood, Sergeant, did not react well to my tests. I do not have a suitable donor with me for Dr. Knight.'' Somme removed his glasses and rubbed at the space between his eyes. "Not anyone that would be able to give enough blood to help her.''

"What? There's no one else?'' Moffitt thought quickly. "What about you or Henri?''

"Henri and I were both prepared to be donors, if needed. If playing the odds, between his blood group and mine, we would have covered the majority of needs. Except for Dr. Knight's. ''

"What is her blood group?'' Moffitt asked, though he thought that he might already know.

"Her blood group is B-.''

"And it's very difficult to find someone who has a B- negative blood type. Trust me, I'm fully aware.'' Moffitt felt that he was more than a bit of an expert at the roadblock that Dr. Somme was facing. "I'm also aware that she can likely take O blood.''

"True enough. Some of the O blood groups will work for transfusions for almost anyone.'' Somme sighed. "The problem is that the two men that I brought were the only ones that I could locate who had that O blood type.''

"And you've already taken too much blood from them for the others.''

"Yes. I would not risk taking more from them. At least not for a few days.'' Somme put his hands in his pockets. "I am afraid that it is quite a problem.''

Yes, Moffitt agreed silently, it was quite the problem. "What's the solution?''

"Before Hitchcock left the camp to retrieve your other jeep, I asked him to contact your commander so that he might reach out to the French Underground. There is one other man who recovered from the illness with the universal O blood group, but I have not seen him since our research facility was destroyed. I am sure that he is somewhere in Africa still, but I do not know where. Perhaps he went to Algiers. He had family there.''

"I see.''

"If we can locate him, all will be well."

"And if not?''

"I do not know. I will think about it. There is a possibility that we may be able to reach another solution.''

"May,'' Moffitt repeated. The lack of definitive answers was hardly comforting. "May find another solution, we may find the other man . . . Is there anything on which we may count?

"No, there is not.''

"I see. So, what may be, will be.'' Moffitt snorted in disgust.

"It is a shame . . .'' Somme began. He closed his mouth tightly instead of finishing his thought.

"What?'' Moffitt asked, preparing to hear that the shame that Moffitt had not believed that MJ was sick. That if Moffitt had taken her seriously, Somme could have planned to treat her, as well. "Spit it out, Doctor.''

''Well, I only know one other man that potentially could have been a donor for Dr. Knight. However, that is of little help.''

"Why? Do you not know where to find the other man, either?''

Somme sighed. "You would know where he was better than I, Sergeant."

"What?'' What Somme had just said made no sense to Moffitt at all.

"It was Dr. LeFeurve, Sergeant. He was of the same blood group as Dr. Knight.''

Moffitt came very close to screaming.


	12. X Marks the Spot

Henri had proven to be an excellent cook. In typical French fashion, he had even brought wine.

It was a decent red wine, if heavier than what Moffitt might have enjoyed at the best of times. However, since it was not the best of times and instead the worst, Moffitt was enjoying the unexpected treat. While it was making him more lightheaded than it really should have been, it did not stop Moffitt from continuing to drink it. He quietly enjoyed the soft buzzing in his head that seemed drown out some of his more morose thoughts.

Hitch was also enjoying the wine, with an opposite reaction.

It seemed to be making the boy decidedly chatty, thought Moffitt. He had given Moffitt a much more detailed account of his and Tully's afternoon adventure of retrieving the wrecked jeep than Moffitt felt was either interesting or necessary.

Nodding along at the appropriate intervals, Moffitt concentrated on enjoying the first real meal of any kind that he had taken the time to eat in a week. While he still questioned his judgment, finally allowing trust in Dr. Somme and Henri had indeed had its benefits.

"So, here's the really weird thing, Moffitt. Get this, will ya?''

Hitch's tone, more than his words, caught Moffitt's attention and interest. Moffitt looked over at Hitch, no earthly idea what he was saying. Despite that he said, "Go on?''

"So, we get just outside of the camp, to where we left the bum jeep and then, we run into two of our guys.''

"Americans?''

"Yeah. US Army.''

Moffitt frowned and put his fork down. "Were they lost?''

"Nah, they didn't look lost.''

Boggs had told Moffitt that word had been spread throughout the Allied and German desert troops that the location of the camp and a rather large radius surrounding it were off limits. To Moffitt, it made what Hitch was telling him even stranger.

"Whatever were they doing?'' Moffitt asked. Hitch now had his full attention.

"Digging in the sand.'' Hitch laughed and shook his head. "And I am not making this up. Ask Tully.''

Tully nodded.

"Digging? Really? As in, with a shovel? In the ground?'' If not for Tully's silent affirmation, Moffitt may have believed that Hitch had been touched with a bit of heatstroke.

"Yep. It was the weirdest thing, Moffitt.''

"So you've said. I don't suppose that you happened to ask them why they were digging in the sand, did you?''

"We asked, but it was two officers.'' Tully's expression made it clear that he didn't expect an officer to tell him anything of any use, even at the best of times. "They weren't inclined to share with the likes of us.''

"I see.'' Moffitt could not determine an explanation for what the boys had observed.

"They must've found what they were looking for, because when we saw them leave, they looked pretty pleased with themselves. Even for officers.'' Hitch took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. "Now, this is where it gets even weirder.''

"How so?'' Moffitt wondered what else Hitch possibly tell him.

"On the way back to the camp, we noticed a couple of Germans coming in from the opposite direction.''

"What?''

"Yeah. And we thought that they were just patrolling. But then they stopped, right around where the jeep had been. And get this. They started digging, too.''

"And you don't know what they were looking for either?'' Moffitt continued to be mystified.

"Um, we didn't turn around to ask them what they were doing.'' Tully took a drink of his wine and made a face, presumbably at the taste. "They didn't bother us and we didn't bother them. Wasn't a good time to go looking for a fight.''

"Wise choice.'' Moffitt wondered what could have possessed both sides of the war that afternoon. It sounded as though they were playing at being pirates on a bloody treasure hunt.

Something suddenly occurred to Moffitt. "I say, did you happen to find anything in the jeep that MJ took? Anything that wouldn't normally belong there?''

Tully frowned. "Like what?''

"Black leather case. Insulated.'' Moffitt put his fork down again and gestured with his hands. "About this big.''

"Nah, nothing like that. Found her bag, but not much else.''

"Where is it?''

"We left it over there.'' Hitch jerked his head towards MJ's former bunk.

Wiping his mouth hastily, Moffitt got up from his stool and went over to the knapsack. Opening it, he dumped all of the contents on the bed. Little of interest fell out: A copy of his father's book, MJ's notebook, a lipstick, a small bottle of French perfume, and other odds and ends.

The black insulated cases was not there, nor were any of the other samples or trays that Moffitt had noticed were missing after MJ's early morning departure.

"Moffitt?'' asked Hitch. "You okay?''

Moffitt came back to the table, leaving MJ's belongings scattered on the bunk.

"Sarge?'' asked Tully. "You look like your brain is working a mile a minute.''

Moffitt drained his wine glass. "It is, but it doesn't seem to be getting anywhere, though. I seem to be stuck. I think that I might need a hand to dig myself out of the sand.''

"Huh?''

Moffitt left the tent without another word.

* * *

><p>Somme, too, was eating the dinner that Henri had prepared.<p>

He looked up when Moffitt came into the infirmary. "Did you enjoy your meal, Sergeant?''

"Yes, very much. Mes compliments au chef, Henri.''

Henri looked up and smiled. "Merci.''

"I have excellent news for you. Our patients are all doing remarkably well.'' Somme looked over at Troy. "Sergeant Troy is not only is his breathing better, but his fever has broken.''

"What about Bader?''

"The boy is marginally improved, but still, any improvement is a good one.''

After a week of watching Bader's health doing nothing but declining Moffitt agreed. "And Dietrich?''

"The German captain is the most improved of all. As I told you, he would have likely recovered on his own. With the antibodies in his blood, he is making a rapid recovery.''

Finally, Moffitt asked the question to which that he was most dreading the answer. "And Dr. Knight? What is her condition?''

Somme looked over to the area where MJ lay and shook his head.

"Except for waking very briefly, she continues to sleep,'' he told Moffitt quietly. "It is unfortunate that the Underground has not been able to find the man for whom we are looking. They will keep trying. Your Captain Boggs has promised to contact us as he hears news.''

"Well, we likely still have some time? Right?'' Moffitt thought of how long Troy, Dietrich and Bader had lain ill. If the doctor could be believed, they were potentially on their way to a full recovery. There was no reason not to hold the same hope for MJ.

Somme shook his head. "I am not sure. I think that she has been infected longer than you knew. She must have been hiding the symptoms quite well for you not to notice.''

Moffitt sighed. "Perhaps I just wasn't paying enough attention.''

"Perhaps. Or perhaps the disease is just progressing extremely quickly. There are some other factors, however, that may explain that.''

Moffitt once again gave his largest regret a voice. "I could have not let her lay in the desert for most of the morning.''

Somme looked at Moffitt with frustraion. "As I keep telling you. Nothing that you could have done would have made any difference, Sergeant Moffitt. She would still be ill, regardless of what actions you took or which you did not. You are not to blame for Dr. Knight's current condition, Sergeant. That is the last time that I will tell you that. It is growing tiresome.'' The doctor threw his hands up as if he were done with Moffitt's gnawing self doubts.

Moffitt looked hard at Somme, once again trying to determine if the man was offering the truth or cold comfort. "I'm going to go in and sit with her.'' It seemed to be the least, if not the only thing, that he could do.

"Very well, then. Henri and I will be out here with the others.''

Moffitt pushed the screens aside and dropped into the chair beside of MJ's bed. True to Somme's word, she was still in the deep dead sleep that the illness seemed to cause.

"Just what were you up to this morning, Dr. Knight?'' Moffitt murmured, uncertain if he would ever get a definitive answer to his question.

He thought about all of the things that had transpired in the short while had known MJ Knight. It all added up to something.

Despite how many times he reworked the sum, Moffitt did not like the answer that it produced.

* * *

><p>Moffitt knew that he must have dozed off.<p>

Unfortunately, it had become common for Moffitt to find that he had fallen asleep in a chair. It took him a moment to remember who he was sitting by on that particular night.

There was a lantern still lit somewhere and Moffitt watched the flicker of the surreal shadows that it produced against the walls of the tent and across MJ's sleeping form. The night was quiet. The only sound that he could really hear was the rasp of her breathing.

From sleeping the chair, Moffitt found that he had a stiff back and a sore neck. His raging headache had also returned, now accompanied by an equally raging thirst. Moffitt knew that the wine was likely to blame for at least his second condition, if not for part of the first.

Deciding that an aspirin or two and some water would be a quick end to at least a few of his miseries, Moffitt got up.

Before leaving, he looked down at MJ. "Try not to go anywhere until I get back, Dr. Knight. I'd like to find you exactly where I left you this time around.''

He was certain that the lamp light was playing tricks on his eyes, but Moffitt could have sworn that he had seen her smile. "MJ?'' Moffitt asked softly, just to be sure. "Can you hear me?''

When he got no answer, Moffitt resigned himself that once again he was seeing things and walked out into the larger area of the tent.

Dr. Somme looked up from his book. "Good evening, Sergeant. How is Dr. Knight?''

"No better, no worse.''

Somme nodded. "And you?''

Moffitt rolled his neck one way and then the other. "I need to stop sleeping sitting up.''

"You are right about that.'' Somme chuckled. "If only you were not so pig headed, your neck and back would likely thank you.''

"If he weren't so pig headed, the whole German army would probably thank him." The voice paused, but then though weak, it continued on, "Heck, our own armies might even thank him sometimes.''

Moffitt once again thought that he might be imagining things. A look in the direction of the voice confirmed that he was not. Two bright blue eyes looked back at him. "Troy? I say! How are you feeling?''

Troy gave a short laugh that ended in a short cough. "I think that someone is going to have to break it to Dietrich that I'm going live.''

Dietrich made no comment, as he appeared to be asleep.

"I think that he'll likely be as relieved as we all are.'' Moffitt thought about that. "Until we start blowing up his columns again, then he'll likely be back to wishing you dead.''

"Yeah.''

Moffitt looked at Dr. Somme. "That cure is a bloody miracle!''

Somme shook his head. "It's not a cure, Sergeant. We merely gave Sergeant Troy additional help to enhance his body's ability to be able to fight off the disease. You should be giving your friend the credit.'' Looking in the direction of Bader, Somme smiled. "And young Herr Bader's fever has dropped considerably. I am sure that he too is now on the right path.''

"May be for the first time,'' muttered Moffitt with a grin. He was very sorry that Dietrich was missing the conversation, as there would have been so much for him to add. "How long has Troy been awake?'' Moffitt asked Dr. Somme.

"Not more than fifteen minutes. I came to tell you, but found that you were asleep. You needed the rest, so I did not disturb you.''

"You should have. I can't sleep for more than thirty or forty minutes at a time, anyway. I think that it's become habit.''

Dr. Somme was not smiling. "It is not a habit! It is a symptom of your exhaustion. As I keep telling you, Sergeant Moffitt, you need to take better care of yourself.''

"I've never felt better,'' Moffitt said, almost meaning it. He couldn't help himself but to grin idiotically in the direction of Troy's bed.

"I am not sure what happens when they send otherwise sane young men off to war. Suddenly, you feel that you have become supermen and have no regards for your health!'' Dr. Somme inclined his head in Troy's direction. "Do you know the first thing that one said? When he woke up? He asked me for a cigarette!" The doctor looked appalled.

"That certainly sounds like Troy and it sounds like he's definitely on the mend.''

Troy returned a smile to Moffitt and then yawned. "Yep.'' He was still smiling when his eyes closed. "I'll be back out giving Dietrich hell before he knows what hit him.''

"That may be a bit optimistic, Sergeant Troy,'' Dr. Somme muttered as he turned a page in his book.

"I'm sure that Dietrich will hope so at any rate,'' Moffitt said. "I'm sure that he would enjoy the respite.''

Dr. Somme looked up at Moffitt. "So, tell me something, Sergeant Moffitt. When this is over, do you all truly intend to go back to trying to kill each other? When you've hoped for nothing else but that you would all live?''

Moffitt gave the only answer that there was to give and the only reason that there was to explain his answer. "Yes. There is a war on, you know, Dr. Somme.''

"Remarkable.'' Dr. Somme shook his head.

Moffitt nodded. "It is at that, isn't it.''

* * *

><p>Moffitt was so ecstatic at Troy's first forays into recovery that he very nearly ran to Hitch and Tully's tent.<p>

When he got there, he was surprised to find that it was empty. Moffitt wondered where the lads had gotten off to.

At least, Moffitt consoled himself, Tully and Hitch were far too bright to go driving off in a jeep in the pitch dark.

Too wound up to sleep and wanting to fill his life with a little more joy before going back to the depressing task of sitting by MJ's bedside, Moffitt went to search for Tully and Hitch. It did not take him long.

He found Tully at the edge of the camp with only a Thompson for company. Staring out into the desert with the predictable matchstick in his mouth, Tully looked deep in thought. Not wanting to startle Tully into shooting him, Moffitt softly called his name.

Tully turned. "Hey, Sarge. What are you doing out and about at this hour? Nothing's wrong is it?''

"Tully, I actually have fantastic news! Troy is awake! Dr. Somme seems to think that he's going to make a full recovery.'' Moffitt laughed. "And of course, Troy thinks that it's going to be immediate.''

"That sounds like Sarge, all right.'' Tully gave Moffitt a slow smile that kept expanding until it reached from ear to ear. "Well, that is good news!''

"I can't think of any better,'' Moffitt agreed. "And it's been a long time coming.''

Tully looked to the star laden sky. ''Amen.'' He continued looking up for a moment longer before his eyes came to rest on Moffitt's. "How are Dietrich and the little fellow?''

"Doing very well. Bader still has a ways to go, but Dr. Somme seems very hopeful. He's not a man to sugar coat the truth, so I put a lot of faith into what he says.''

Tully nodded. "And what about Dr. Knight? How is she doing?''

"Not as well, I'm afraid, but she hasn't had the treatment that the others had yet, either. Though things looked up dramatically for Troy and the others after they received it.'' Moffitt tried to sound optimistic because the statement was indeed the truth.

Tully nodded. "Hope so.''

"Look, we should tell Hitch about Troy. He'll want to know that he seems to be out of the woods. Where is Hitch, by the way?''

Tully jerked his head in the direction of MJ's former lab. ''He's been standing by the radio in case Boggs has any news. It'll be his turn to take watch though soon and then I'll go sit by the radio for a while.''

"Long night of it, then.''

"Well, I hope that we hear something soon. So, if we're lucky it might get shorter. If not, then at least it's warmer in there than it is out here.'' Tully pulled the collar his jacket tighter and almost shivered.

For the first time, Moffitt noticed that there were hollows under Tully's eyes. It struck Moffitt that he had been thinking so much about Troy, MJ, the others, and himself that he had never fully appreciated the quiet support that Hitch and Tully had been lending to the group.

"Tully . . .''

Tully looked at Moffitt expectantly.

"I just wanted to tell you, well, how much I appreciate everything that you and Hitch have done through this. I know that it hasn't been easy on you, either.'' Moffitt put his hand on Tully's shoulder. "I don't think that I've said thank you.''

"We know, Sarge.'' Tully looked at the tent where Hitch sat waiting for the radio call that may save MJ's life. "Let's go tell Hitch the good news. And then you can thank him, too.'' Tully grinned at Moffitt. "And then maybe both of you all can work an apology or two in there, too. If it suits you, you know.''

"Quite right. Lead on, then, Tully.''

* * *

><p>Moffitt followed Tully into the tent. As advertised, Hitch was sitting in front of the radio, blowing sticky pink bubbles and reading a comic book.<p>

Hitch looked up, his face going dark. "What happened? Everything okay?''

Moffitt put his hands on his hips and looked at Tully. "Well, it's Troy . . .''

Out of his seat in a second, Hitch faced up with Moffitt. "What? What happened, Moffitt?'' Hitch asked, his voice sharp.

Remembering all too well their conflict the afternoon before, Moffitt placed his hands on Hitch's arms, lest the young man began swinging before he could finish. "Troy was awake! Dr. Somme says that his condition is greatly improved.''

Hitch blinked, his eyes wide behind his glasses. "What? Really? Sarge is going to be okay?''

"Yes, I think that he is.'' To Moffitt, it looked like Hitch was close to enthusiastically hugging him. Moffitt was glad that he was still holding Hitch's arms. It would likely save them both some embarrassment.

Breaking from Moffitt's hold, Hitch nearly bounced over to Tully. "Did you hear that? Troy's going to be fine!''

Tully nodded and smiled. "It's real good news.''

"The best news ever!'' Hitch looked over at Moffitt. "How are the others? They okay, too?''

"Doing well, apparently. Even Bader.''

"And Dr. Knight?''

Moffitt frowned at the reminder that despite all of the good news, all still was not well in their world. "She's not doing well.''

"Well, that stinks.'' Hitch looked over at the radio. "I haven't heard from Captain Boggs yet, and it's pretty late. What's going to happen if they don't find that guy with the right type of blood?''

"I don't know, Hitch. I just don't know.'' Moffitt sat down heavily on the lab bench. "Let's just hope that Boggs pulls through for us.''

When the radio crackled into life all three of them started. "Bad Wolf to Little Pig. Little Pig, come in. Over.''

Hitch looked at Moffitt.

Moffitt tried not to roll his eyes at the call signs. "Answer him.''

"Little Pig here, Bad Wolf. What's the status on that brick house? Over.''

"Brick house has been located for Snow White, Little Pig. Will be at your Lima tomorrow as soon as possible. Over.''

Hitch grinned up at Moffitt and Tully. "Thank you, Bad Wolf! We'll deliver the news. Over.''

"Little Pig, one more thing. Over.''

Hitch frowned. "Little Pig waiting for instructions, Bad Wolf. Over.''

"Tell Snow White that the gold was located. X marked the spot. All a-okay. Tell Snow White that she's still the fairest of them all. Over.''

"Bad Wolf, I'm not sure that I copy that. Over.''

"Tell Snow White, Little Pig. She'll understand. That's all, Little Pig. Bad Wolfe over and out.''

"I think,'' Moffitt said slowly, ''that our codes may have gotten to the point where even we don't understand them. Snow White, Hitch?''

Removing his headset, Hitch nodded. "Snow White is Dr. Knight. Boggs has been calling her that. I get the feeling that they've been talking when we're not around.''

"Why am I not surprised?'' Moffitt shook his head and supposed that he should just be thankful that Boggs hadn't taken to calling himself Prince Charming. "All right, what's the gold?''

Hitch shrugged. "That one I don't know. Dr. Knight would, I guess. But it doesn't sound like you could ask her.''

"Well, didn't the dwarves have a lot of gold?'' Tully looked like he was trying hard to remember the story from his childhood.

"Yes.'' Moffitt nodded. "Every day, while Snow White stayed at their house, they went out to hunt for gold in the mountains.''

Tully looked thoughtful. "You know, gold is treasure. And you dig for treasure. X marks the spot, right?''


	13. Deserving of Answers

Moffitt had delivered Boggs' good news to Dr. Somme.

Dr. Somme met the news with cautious optimism. Moffitt had been hoping for more, but he took what he could get. He had also delivered it to MJ, but had received no response.

Once again, he had been hoping for more.

Moffitt sighed and looked at his watch. Dawn was only a few hours off. Then, it would be another few hours before the donor that Boggs had located arrived. MJ continued to sleep and Moffitt continued to think. Moffitt had managed to puzzle out why MJ had taken the jeep. He even believed that he understood why the US Army had been out digging for buried treasure.

However, for Moffitt, there were still more questions that were outstanding, questions to which only MJ seemed to have the answers.

Moffitt amended his thought. Dietrich, it seemed, also knew more than he was able or willing to tell. Which may or may not make sense out of why the Germans seemed to be holding their own treasure hunt that afternoon? For lack of anything better to do, Moffitt thought about what he knew and what he did not. Within three quarters of an hour's time, his headache had returned despite the four aspirin that he had taken only hours before.

It was like trying to solve an equation for too many variables without enough inputs, Moffitt thought. There were possible combinations of things that resulted in answers, even plausible ones, but he was never quite sure if they were correct. Moffitt found that it was reminiscent of how he had felt in his advanced mathematics course.

All that he needed to complete the experience was a blackboard, a dusting of chalk on his fingers, and the disapproving eye of a Math's professor who had a dim opinion of those who had chosen to study history.

* * *

><p>Another hour had passed.<p>

There had been no change in MJ's condition. Also, there was no change in Moffitt's ability to be able to resolve exactly what had been going on since the day that they had met Dr. MJ Knight.

Moffitt looked at his watch again and realized that it was his least favorite time of the morning, the darkest hour. He held the hope that one day soon he would be doing what a sane man should be doing at that time: Sleeping.

Moffitt felt like he had all of the sand of the Sahara in his eyes. Several times he felt himself nod off, only to jerk himself back awake. The ache in his neck and shoulders had returned. Beginning to agree that Dr. Somme had been right in calling him pig headed, Moffitt contemplated leaving MJ. The idea of falling down on one of the cots sounded much more attractive than waiting in vain for her to wake up.

Suddenly, he thought that he heard the sheets rustle. Moffitt quickly turned his head. "MJ?'' he asked.

MJ, more than a little groggy, muttered several unintelligible words and sounds. "Jack?'' she asked, finally achieving something close to lucidity.

"Yes, right here, MJ.''

"Ugh. I think that I felt better when I was asleep.'' Her lips curved into a small smile.

"Well, I am sorry to hear that, but I was hoping that you might wake up soon.'' It was the truth for more than a few reasons.

Moffitt was happy to see MJ coherent as it boded well for her ability to last until her donor arrived. Then, there were also the unanswered questions running through his brain. The pragmatic side of Moffitt knew that any opportunity that he had to speak to MJ might be his last one.

''And I was hoping that you would be here if I did, Jack. Always faithful, and not just to Troy.'' MJ still smiled but her eyes remained closed. "We'll dismiss your unwillingness to help a damsel in distress yesterday as an aberration, I suppose. You're forgiven.''

Despite himself, Moffitt smiled. "That's kind of you.''' His smile dropped. ''Though you didn't give me the impression that you needed or wanted my help much, MJ, when you took off into the dark of the night with nary a word.''

"I've always needed your help, Jack. Couldn't have made it this far without you.''

It was, thought Moffitt, absolutely and unfortunately true. "For better or for worse, I think that I have given you more help than I even knew.''

"Jack, as this is the last conversation that we may ever have . . .'' MJ began coughing.

Moffitt shook his head. "You're not going to die, MJ. Dr. Somme has a treatment for the virus. With any luck, you'll receive it not long after dawn. Troy and the others have improved immensely since they've had it.'' Moffitt offered her the cup of water. "You just need to hold on.''

MJ waved the water away. "Even if Somme's cure works and I live, this is likely the last conversation that you're ever going to have with me.''

"We've all been through a lot together. You'd have to tell me quite the tale to not make me want to ever speak to you again,'' Moffitt said gently, even if the words were not necessarily true, he hoped to encourage MJ to speak to him.

MJ was quiet for several minutes. Moffitt peered at her in the dim light, hoping that she had not fallen back into sleep.

Finally, MJ sighed. "I'm so sorry, Jack. You didn't deserve this. None of you did.''

By reflex, Moffitt almost told her that MJ that there was nothing for which that she needed to apologize. In light of the reality of the situation, he stopped himself. Instead, he waited for her next words.

"Head down, stiff upper lip, the belief that a good character, breeding, and determination are all that you need to prevail in the end." MJ opened her eyes and looked at Moffitt fondly. "You really are a credit to your class and your country. I've known all too well more than a few who think that they are like you. But, you, Jack Moffitt, you are the real deal.''

Moffitt wished that he could take what MJ was saying as compliment, but it was just as likely that her words meant that he had been just as a predictable of a pawn for which she could have hoped. "Dr. Knight, I'm curious as to what you want to tell me. Certainly, it's not that I am the grown up version of the quintessential English public school boy.''

"You deserve answers, Jack. As you've stuck with me this long, it seems to be the least that I can do.'' A frown creased MJ's forehead. "But I don't even know where to start, honestly. I'm having trouble sorting it all out into something that would make sense.''

MJ was not the only one having that trouble, thought Moffitt. "Shall I start us out, then? You knew that antibiotics wouldn't cure the virus, didn't you? Everyone else seems to know that. I should've realized that as well.'' Moffitt shook his head. "Not sure why I didn't think of it.''

MJ reached out and took Moffitt's hand. Moffitt let her. "It was a blind. I needed the time and your trust gave it to me."

"Yes, that's true. I trusted you.'' Moffitt realized that he had trusted her because everyone else seemed to do so. From Boggs to Winston Churchill. "MJ, you weren't spending our time here looking for a cure, were you?''

"There were so many different things that I knew that I could accomplish with this mission, Jack.'' MJ coughed again. "But finding a cure for the virus was never really ever one of them. Despite what I told you from the beginning.''

"So, you were working on . . . '' Despite himself, Moffitt felt his anger rising at the realization that MJ had been lying to him, lying to all of them, about what she had been doing. "Your interest in LeFeurve had nothing to do with a cure. It was because of the vaccine.''

"I was afraid that if you thought that I didn't have a chance at finding a cure. Well,'' MJ paused, "actually, I wasn't sure what you would do, Jack. I thought that you might completely lose hope.''

"You obviously are underestimating the tolerance that war builds for withstanding truly hopeless situations, Dr. Knight. Or, maybe, you're still not being truthful with me.'' Moffitt's anger had peaked and declined. He found that he didn't have the energy required to maintain it. "Why do I think that it's the latter?''

"I was afraid that you would start looking for alternatives, Jack, before the time was right. But you waited, and so patiently. And then, I gave you a nudge.''

A nudge, she said. The realization struck Moffitt like a ton of bricks. "You knew of Dr. Somme's success. With the blood therapy. But you didn't tell us about it,'' Moffitt said, his voice flat.

"But I did tell you about it, maybe not in so many words.'' MJ smiled at him and made a weak attempt of squeezing Moffitt's hand. "And just as I had hoped, you figured it out. Not a moment too soon, not a moment too late.''

This time, when a realization struck Moffitt, it felt more like a grand piano had come crashing down upon him. "Exactly at the right time,'' he said slowly, "after the disease had reached its peak for Dietrich and Troy.'' There was no denying that Moffitt had unearthed and confirmed a bit of the truth. It was unfortunately just as awful as he had suspected that it might be.

He waited for MJ to say something in her defense.

MJ did not argue the point.

Open mouthed, Moffitt looked at her. "That is absolutely monstrous!''

"It wasn't my call, Jack. I hope that you believe me.'' MJ turned her head from him. ''Or, maybe it would be better if you didn't believe me, Jack."

"What does that mean? Whose call was it? Why don't you tell me?" Moffitt remembered something else and then suddenly understood. ''Snow White?''

MJ moved her head from side to side against her pillow. ''I did everything I could to monitor their conditions. I would have never have left it go past the point of no return. Really, I wouldn't have. You have to believe me, Jack.'' MJ gasped and wheezed, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "Say that you believe me? Please, Jack.''

Moffitt wondered why MJ would possibly think that he would believe anything that she was telling him at this point.

Still shocked, not only at MJ's betrayal but also at that of others whom he had trusted so well, Moffitt let out a breath. "Well, you cut it bloody close for Bader and Troy, Bader especially.''

"That should have never happened. It was a gamble that I took that LeFeurve to show me how to recreate the vaccinne, while he pretended to fabricate a cure.''

''A cure that you knew would kill anyone who took it.''

"Yes, but it did allow me to accomplish one of my objectives.''

"Your objectives?'' Objectives, thought Moffitt, which he now realized included blowing up the Free French research facility, killing LeFeurve, and letting three men suffer long enough to deliver to the Allies a promised sample of the virus. Moffitt wondered how many objectives MJ had had. He had a sneaking suspicion that there had been more and that each was worse than the last.

"Yes. My objectives. Everything has nearly worked out.'' MJ's voice was growing fainter, but it was easy to hear the note of satisfaction.

MJ began coughing again. The spell lasted for several minutes. Moffitt might have suspected that she was still over exaggerating her condition if not for the bloody residue that she weakly tried to wipe away from her mouth.

Moffitt assisted her in removing the smears of blood from her chin. "I would agree that it all seems to have worked out very neatly in the end for you, Dr. Knight. Except for the one thing. You surely didn't plan to get sick, did you? Or, were you relying on my admittedly rather slow wits to bring Dr. Somme and the blood therapy in the nick of time to save you?''

MJ closed her eyes again. "I knew what my odds were. It was a gamble, but one I was willing to take to win.''

"But this time, it seems as if your risks may not have paid off, MJ.''

"Usually, luck isn't a problem for me, Jack.''

Moffitt snorted. "Everyone's luck runs short from time to time. Trust me, I've seen it over and over again.''

Sucking in shallow breaths, MJ was silent for a few moments. "You're right. It was just all too good to be true, wasn't it? Something was bound to go wrong.''

"You're not the first one to learn that lesson as a result of all of this."

Closing his eyes, Moffitt thought about everything that had occurred since they had met Dr. MJ Knight. What had started as an almost typical mission had become nothing but a series of tragedies since they had helped her to accomplish her first objective. Things had grown from bad to worse, and just when they seemed to be looking up again, Moffitt found himself feeling just as wretched as he had ever been.

MJ started coughing again.

There was sharpness about the noise that made Moffitt's eyes snap open. In horror, he watched as blood not only gathered at her mouth but also started to seep from her nose. In all of the days that he had been caring for Troy, Dietrich and Bader, Moffitt had never seen that.

Alarmed, Moffitt jumped up to go and fetch Dr. Somme

With quickness and strength which Moffitt was surprised that she still possessed, MJ grabbed him and pulled him closer. "There's one more thing, Jack.''

"'I've heard enough.'' Moffitt started to pull away from MJ. "Anyway, it's not important right now. You need the doctor.''

"No, I don't. There's nothing that he can do to me help me. I need you." Her hands continued to dig into his arms with a surprising strength and the bright red rivulets continuing to run down her face. "Jack, please? Please!''

"I can't do anything else for you, MJ. I think that whatever usefulness I had to you is over."

"No, it's not. One more thing, Jack.''

"What?"

MJ sputtered for a bit, wiped away some of the blood that had seeped from her nose into her mouth, and then continued on. "I need to tell you something. You're going to have to be the one who decides what to do about it. Your choice could save lives and it could take them, so you need to choose wisely. Help me to choose, Jack!''

MJ's eyes burned into his. They looked less than human. Moffitt found that he could only stare.

"I'm not sure I can figure out what's right and what's wrong anymore. But if I were to trust anyone with that choice, it would be you. Help me Jack! Please?'' MJ pleaded.

She pulled herself closer to him so that her mouth was near his ear and MJ began to speak, a jumble of words that made Moffitt's eyes grow wide.

Despite himself, Moffitt listened to everything that MJ had to say.

* * *

><p>Moffitt shook Dietrich. "Dietrich, wake up!''<p>

With Somme attending to MJ, Henri was left on watch. "Sergeant Moffitt! Whatever are you doing? That man needs his rest,'' he scolded.

Turning over his shoulder to glare at Henri, Moffitt didn't stop trying to rouse Dietrich. "Dietrich, aufzuwachen! Es ist wichtig! Bitte!''

Dietrich frowned and then opened his eyes. "Was ist das?'' Looking at Moffitt, he switched to English. "Sergeant Moffitt, is it Bader?''

Moffitt looked over at Henri who shrugged. "No, Bader is fine, or at least he's getting there. Troy is also fine. However, Dr. Knight is not so well. She took an opportunity to make what might be a last confession to me.''

Dietrich's eyes suddenly shuttered. "And what was that?''

"She told me that she had not fulfilled one of her commitments as hoped, with potentially deadly results. Dietrich, you know why I'm telling you this, don't you?''

Dietrich pursed his lips and said nothing. His expression remained as closed as his mouth.

Desperate, Moffitt tried again. "Dietrich, I'm going to ask you for a name. I hope that you'll give it to me.''

"Whose name?''

"Just give me a name, Dietrich. Any one that you think is best. One that you think that could make a difference.'' Moffitt hoped that Dietrich would recognize the seriousness of the situation and tried to communicate it in his expression and in his eyes. "I'm trying to help, not you, not the German cause, but the world.''

Finally, Dietrich sighed. "Oberstartz Johan Rasmussen.''

Moffitt nodded, gratefully. "I promise, I won't share with anyone how I got it. But they'll be very glad that I did.''

"Is that all that you needed, Sergeant?'' Dietrich's eyes held Moffitt's.

"Herr Hauptmann, it's plain to me that it's all that you are willing to give me. Let's just hope that it's enough.''

* * *

><p>Hitch barely raised an eyebrow when Moffitt had asked him to find him one of the German frequencies on the radio.<p>

Once he had located the right audience for what he had had to say, Moffitt had relayed his message. No one had even bothered to ask him how he had known that the Germans had unearthed a vaccine for a deadly virus the day prior.

When the questions came around how he knew that the vaccine was contaminated, Moffitt could only answer one way. Upon mentioning MJ Knight's name, Moffitt found that what he had to say quickly accepted without any further inquiries.

Moffitt ended the transmission. Then, he leaned against the table trying to will away the dizziness that had remained after the adrenaline had faded.

"What was all of that about, Moffitt?'' Chewing his gum, Hitch looked up with curiosity.

"I think,'' Moffitt said slowly, his head spinning, ''that the Germans didn't find the treasure yesterday for which they were hoping. What they found was more of a tragedy.''

Hitch nodded. "Well, I guess it was nice of you to tell them that.''

"Trust me, Hitch.'' Moffitt shook his head. "Nice had nothing to do with it.''

"Got ya.'' Hitch pondered that for a moment before nodding again. Then his face suddenly lit up. ''Oh, you were so excited that I forget to tell you. I got a message about an hour ago, right at dawn. Dr. Knight's donor is on his way here.''

For first time, Moffitt noticed that he had blood on his sleeve. He couldn't stop looking at it. "From where?''

"They called from the town. I guess they found him there, somewhere. Lucky that he wasn't in Algiers, right? Would've taken him forever to get here. They should be here in about another hour.''

"Good to hear, Hitch. Thank you.'' Moffitt still stared at the red smear upon the khaki.

No matter what the distance, he wasn't sure that it was close enough.


	14. Collateral Damage

Feeling as though his legs had been filled with lead, Moffitt managed to make his way back to the infirmary.

Dr. Somme was waiting for him. So, it seemed, was Dietrich.

Dietrich raised his eyebrows at Moffitt. Moffitt nodded. Dietrich returned the nod and settled back against on his pillow.

If Somme noticed the exchange, he gave no hint. He took Moffitt's arm. "Sergeant, Dr. Knight is in the final stages of the disease.''

Moffitt remembered what Hitch had told him about the man whose blood could have saved MJ's life. "Hitch let me know that the donor should be here within the hour.''

Removing his glasses, Somme put one of the earpieces in his mouth and appeared to think. Finally, he looked up at Moffitt. He shook his head. "I am not sure that it's going to be of any consequence.''

Tenacity came to Moffitt out of sheer habit. "She's still alive, isn't she?''

"True enough. But the old adage of while there is life there is hope is not always true, Sergeant.''

Moffitt felt the reality of the room around him slipping away. He put out a hand and steadied himself against a gurney. "Why was her illness so much more aggressive? Than ever Bader's?''

"Oh. I did not share with you how Dr. Knight became infected, did I?'' Somme looked in the direction of where MJ lay. "I did determine the cause. It explains much.''

"How? Did she finally tell you?''

"No, not really. She told me that same thing that she told you. That she did not know how her exposure occurred.''

"Go on, Dr. Somme. You seem to have figured it out. Am I right?''

"Dr. Knight also shared with me that she was testing a potential vaccine that she had believed to be successful.''

"I see. And you believe that her illness is related to the vaccine?'' Moffitt was not quite sure why he was bothering to have the conversation with Somme. What he was telling him was not hardly unexpected, nor did it seem as if it was of any use.

"Yes. The vaccine has a live sample of the disease in it. If the concentration is not correct, it will result in illness. Ironically, the vaccination will do the opposite of what it should.''

"I would hazard a guess that injecting the virus into your bloodstream would cause the infection to progress very rapidly.''

"Yes. The odd thing is, Dr. Knight maintained that her infection was coincidental and not related to the vaccine. Of course, it was not.'' Somme shook his head. "I do not really believe she had any idea that the vaccination would kill instead of save. But it is quite clear where she went wrong if you review her notes.''

"Of course. If you could read them.'' Moffitt remembered the scrawling that he had reviewed a few afternoons earlier. "And you shared your findings with her?'' Moffitt nodded, as he knew that the answer had to be an affirmative.

"Yes, she was conscious for a bit while you were having dinner. I shared with her that she had made a mistake.''

Moffitt thought about that. "In the end, you must have gotten through to her,'' he said, thinking about MJ's confession to him.

''I am not sure.'' Dr. Somme looked rueful. "I do not think that Dr. Knight is acquainted with making many mistakes. Arrogance of that type, even when founded, is dangerous. This could have resulted in the infection of hundreds of thousands of people. But, it is only Dr. Knight that is paying the price.''

"Another hard lesson to be learned here, certainly. Even if Dr. Knight did not know, I think that someone else knew that the vaccine was deadly.'' When Somme had turned a puzzled face to him, Moffitt continued. "I believe that Dr. LeFeurve also knew that the vaccine that was created here was dangerous.''

"How?''

"They were working together at one point, before he died. On the vaccine and what we know now to be the non-existent cure.''

Somme looked surprised. "Dr. LeFeurve would have realized that yes, just as he would have known that there was no cure,'' he finally said. "It is same mistake that I made when we were first testing the vaccine. The danger of the vaccine is hard to detect in any testing other than through actually administering it. But, Dr. LeFeurve would have easily recognized it the second time around.''

Even at the end of all of it, even when Moffitt thought that he had it all figured out, there were still enough dangling loose ends to give him pause.

Moffitt asked himself if LeFeurve had helped MJ created the vaccine in hopes that she would take his work and give it to the Germans. Or, perhaps LeFeurve had hoped that it would kill MJ even before she had had the opportunity to do so.

Knowing LeFeurve, Moffitt realized that the man had probably been hoping for both. Rubbing his head, Moffitt sighed. "How much longer does she have?''

"It is hard to say.'' Somme's expression indicated to Moffitt that it was likely not long.

"May I see her? Is she conscious?''

"Yes. The patients often are in the final stages. It is one of the cruelest things about the virus.''

Moffitt turned to go and Somme put a hand out to stop him. "Sergeant, I will warn you that if you are with her when the end comes, it will be quick and it will not be pleasant.''

"Well, this whole thing has been less than pleasant, so that's hardly a surprise.'' While Somme's words were well meaning, Moffitt wasn't about to let the warning put him off.

After all, MJ likely had enough things on her conscious to regret. If he could allow her to ease her burden by one, Moffitt felt that he could endure.

* * *

><p>When Moffitt saw MJ, he fully understood why Somme had warned him.<p>

She was deathly pale and every gasp sounded like the rattle that would indicate that she had taken her last breath. The pillow on which her head rested was covered with blood and more continued to pool under her nose and at the corners of her mouth.

With an unsteady hand, Moffitt pulled the chair over and sat down by MJ's bed. After a moment, he took her hand.

"MJ, can you hear me?''

A frown passed across her face. She tried to speak and while no words passed her lips, a bubble of bloody froth formed. An inward breath caused it to break.

Swallowing his queasiness, Moffitt leaned closer to her. "MJ, I wanted to tell you, I delivered your message to the Germans. They know that the vaccine would cause the illness instead of prevent it.''

MJ frowned and then nodded. "So that was the right decision?''

As more often than not, as he talked with MJ Moffitt felt his frustration rise. "What's that supposed to mean? Of course it was.''

"Jack, each side of that decision had consequences.'' The words were spoken so softly that Moffitt may have missed them if he had not been so close.

"What?'' Moffitt tried to make sense of her enigmatic reply.

"There are so many evils in this world and some will survive.''

Moffitt suddenly wondered what exactly he had chosen. "You knew that vaccine would cause the illness, didn't you, MJ?''

"I knew that it was a possibility. And then, after I got sick, I was sure.''

"Hang on.'' Moffitt remembered the sequence of events. "You knew that you were sick before you planted the vaccine for the Germans.''

MJ looked at him and blinked. "Of course I did.''

Any surprise that Moffitt would have felt the MJ would have lied to Somme was long gone, but still, he found her response shocking. "But why would you have given it to them? If you knew that it was deadly?'' Moffitt found himself wondering just exactly how mad the world had gone.

''Some live so that others may die. Some die so that others may live. It was a hard decision to make. But I made it. And then, you made another one. Probably a better one.''

"Allowing people to become infected after taking the vaccine would have killed thousands of innocent people.'' Moffitt shook his head. "It was one of the easiest decisions of my life.''

"Was it? The vaccine would have killed more than one not so innocent person.'' MJ sighed. "That's the hard question, or at least it was for me. How many deaths are worth the death of a few men?''

"None,'' Moffitt said with conviction.

"A lesser man might have come to another conclusion." MJ's lips twitched. "There was a chance that virus could have ended the war, Jack. Pretty quickly, too. You know that they would have given it to their highest ranking officials first.''

Moffitt had thought about that before he had made his transmission to the Germans. "Yes, I'm sure. From Hitler on down. But there's no guarantee that it would have killed any of them, is there? They would have surely tested it first, surely, before giving it to anyone of any importance.''

"I'd guess that would be true. But even in that process we could have rid the world with of some evil.''

There was something about the way that MJ responded that gave Moffitt pause. "It sounds like you had someone particular in mind.''

"I did. I wish that I had the time to tell you everything. There's so much more that you should have known, Jack.''

Feeling as if he knew more than he'd ever wish that he'd had to discover, Moffitt shook his head. "About what?''

"About me and about everything else. You think that you understand, but really, you're only getting the tip of the iceberg, Jack."

"Well, if you can tell me only one thing, who were you working for MJ? The Allies or the Germans? I thought that I knew, now I'm not so sure.''

"I was working for myself, Jack. Everything else was just collateral damage.''

Moffitt heard a new voice exchanging words with Dr. Somme and Henri. "We can continue this conversation later. You did promise me some whiskey, you know.'' Moffitt tried and failed at both sounding positive and smiling. "Your donor is here.''

"Too late for me, Jack. I know that you don't have much trust left in me at all, but trust me in that.''

"You're not always right about everything, you know.''

"You'd be surprised. I am sorry about the whiskey. And everything else.'' Again, MJ started to cough. The sound was liquid and it did not stop, nor did the profusion of bright red blood that began pouring from MJ's lips.

Moffitt jumped up so quickly that his vision dimmed. "Oh God!'' Uselessly, he tried to clear her mouth. MJ appeared to be choking and there was nothing that Moffitt could do. "Dr. Somme! Please hurry!''

In a moment, Somme and Henri had slipped behind the screens.

Moffitt stood as if he was rooted to the spot. Henri moved Moffitt none too gently out of the way.

On the bed, MJ convulsed briefly and then was still. Her head was at an angle that made it look to Moffitt as if her now lifeless eyes were staring into his.

Somme turned to say something to Moffitt.

The man's mouth moved but the rushing in Moffitt's ears did not allow him to hear the words.

When his world began to tilt, Moffitt felt Henri's big arms go around him, likely keeping him from crashing to the floor.

However, it did not stop the darkness from closing around Moffitt with a blessed quickness.

* * *

><p>When Moffitt opened his eyes, he realized that he had no idea where he was.<p>

Gradually, it became obvious that he was in MJ's old lab. Looking around, it looked just as he had recalled, but it was empty. He listened and heard nothing.

"What the bloody hell?'' Frowning, Moffitt pulled himself up. "Did the war end and someone forgot to tell me?" he muttered to himself.

"If only.'' The voice came from the opening of tent and there was no mistaking it as Troy's.

"Troy.'' Moffitt was relieved to see the familiar face.

"Moffitt.''

Pausing for a moment, Moffitt took stock of his physical condition. Other than being slightly groggy and having a needle inserted in his arm, he could not find anything amiss physically. He seemed to be whole, alive, and well.

Troy settled into the chair beside of Moffitt's bed. A grin spread across his face. "Well, this is a change of pace, isn't it? Me sitting by your bedside?''

Moffitt sighed. "Actually, in the grand scheme of things, it's more normal than not. I am glad to see you up and around, Troy. That is what I would call a nice change. Has Dr. Somme given you a clean bill of health?''

"Yeah. A day ago. Somme is still around though, and he's been keeping us all on a pretty short leash.'' Troy looked fed up with his convalescence and everything that went along with it, including the care of the doctor.

Moffitt smiled. From experience, he didn't envy Somme his task of trying to keep Troy in check.

''But you know how it is. Just getting being able to get out of bed is an accomplishment, so a short leash on a long run is better than nothing at all.'' Troy cast an eye at the entrance of the tent for a moment and then pulled a packet of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. He lit one and gingerly inhaled.

Watching as Troy grimaced, Moffitt voiced his rather obvious observation. "Lungs still a bit sore?''

Troy exhaled and took another hit from the cigarette. "The first drag is always the roughest. Once you get past that, it's not so bad.''

Briefly, Moffitt wondered why Troy had picked the habit up again after so many days of abstaining, but he didn't bother to ask. After all, smoking was as much a part of Troy as were his bush hat and his sometimes prickly attitude.

"You're sure that you're all right?'' Moffitt asked instead, fully remembering to how close Troy had come to dying just a few days earlier.

"Right as rain.'' Troy coughed slightly and put his hand to his chest. "Almost, anyway."

"Excellent.''

"And I know that you'll ask, so I'll go ahead and tell you. Dietrich and Bader are in pretty good shape. They were itching to get out of here, so Hitch found a ride for them. A couple of their medical corps came and picked them up today. Dietrich was throwing a fit in German when they tried to take him out on a stretcher. '' Troy chuckled at the memory. "Do you know this means? _Ich brauche nicht Ihre Sorge, ihr Idioten. Sind Sie blind? _I got the last part, all by myself."

"Yes, I do. I would translate it into 'get your hands off of me you, bloody idiots, as I don't need your help.' Very good pronunciation, Troy.''

"Yeah, he said it so many times, that I had no problem picking it up.''

"You've obviously learned German the Dietrich way. Lots of yelling and self righteous indignation when it seems like things are not going the way that he thinks that they should.''

"Yeah, he was hot all right. He was in the best shape of all of us, throughout the entire thing.'' Troy considered what he had just said. "I guess Dietrich is pretty good at getting knocked down and then getting back up again.''

"Well, he's had plenty of practice, courtesy of you.'' Moffitt grinned faintly. "Best news in the world though that you all came through this all right. Even Dietrich and Bader.''

All of them, thought Moffitt, had survived. Except for MJ.

Obviously, Troy's mind had gone to the same place even if he wasn't saying it. "Yeah.'' He shook his head. "Tully and Hitch made it through okay, too. Never did get sick. Thank God."

"Are they still here?''

"Tully is, somewhere. I gave Hitch permission to go back into the town. It was to take Henri back, but really, I think that he met a girl there at some point. Don't ask me how."

"It's Hitch, Troy. Do you really need to ask?''

"Yeah, that's true. Can't take that kid anywhere.'' Troy's gaze had moved to study his cigarette. Finally, he looked over at Moffitt and squinted at him through the veil of smoke. "How are you?''

"Well, I think. Speaking of which, why am I laid up?''

Troy appeared to think hard about what he wanted to say. "I think that the official opinion of the doc was that you were exhausted, dehydrated, and underfed.''

Despite himself, Moffitt gave Troy a lopsided grin. "So only a little worse off than normal, then?''

"Yeah.'' Tory laughed, his eyes crinkling.

''So, if I'm well, why this?'' Moffitt lifted his arm and pointed at the catheter and the tubing that led to an IV bag. "This is usually a very good sign that I'm not well.''

"Dr. Somme sedated you.''

Moffitt narrowed his eyes. "I am assuming that you knew nothing about that, did you Troy?''

"Well,'' Troy said, drawing the word out and ducking his head, "he did ask me before he did it. And I told him to go ahead."

Moffitt ran a hand over his jaw, feeling the growth there. "How long?'' he asked, feeling suddenly like Rip Van Winkle.

"Three days, I guess. A little more, maybe.'' Troy met Moffitt's glare. "Look, Moffitt, it was for the best.''

"I see. May I ask why?''

Troy hesitated, appearing to think about what he wanted to say. "I think . . . that at the end it was all just too much. Would've been too much for anyone. You know?''

Even though Troy couldn't know the full truth of his assessment as he had not watched MJ's gruesome last moments, Moffitt realized how just accurate Troy's words were. "You might be right at that, Troy.''

Troy put out his cigarette and then made a show of waving the smoke away. Moffitt knew that Somme would likely give Troy quite the tongue lashing if he knew that he had been smoking. The idea that Troy would go out of his way to avoid conflict with the little Frenchman was, despite everything, amusing.

Moffitt couldn't help but to snicker.

"What?'' Troy asked, giving Moffitt a look that he didn't think that he would ever be happy to see.

But seeing it made Moffitt very glad indeed, as it meant that things were nearer to normal than they had been for a long time. "Oh, nothing, Troy.''

"I'll let the doc know that you're awake. He'll probably want to check you out before he lets you up and around again. I don't think that they'll be much to it.''

Moffitt suddenly felt ashamed. After all, Troy had almost died and he seemed mostly fine. Moffitt himself hadn't even been sick and was now laid up.

It was, he thought, typical.

Troy, as if he was reading Moffitt's mind or at least deciphering his expression, made a dismissive gesture in response. "Don't worry about it. And besides, we're all grounded for at least another week, maybe more. Boggs'orders. So it's not like we would have been doing anything else.'' Troy waited a beat before he showed Moffitt a mouthful of even white teeth.

"Thanks, Troy.''

Once again, Troy looked serious. "Moffitt, I know this whole thing was rough. And I'm sorry about MJ. We all are. Damned shame. And I'm sorry that you had to deal with it all alone, from beginning to end.''

"Yes." For once, Moffitt was reluctant to say too much. The situation seemed difficult enough without talking it to death.

Troy nodded again before disappearing out the tent flap.

Alone again, Moffitt leaned back and closed his eyes. Thinking back to his string of nightmarish memories of the last fortnight, it almost seemed to him as if they had happened to someone else.

If only, Moffitt thought, that it had.

Not only had his trust in MJ been completely shattered, but then there was MJ's admission that Troy and the rest had been allowed to suffer much longer than had been needed. Moffitt again wondered who had made that decision. He realized that it was unlikely that he would ever know. What he did know was that all signs pointed to the fact that it was someone in whom they had trusted. If not Boggs, then to someone else even higher ranking.

It was a heavy blow to Moffitt, one even more disturbing to him than finding that out MJ's true motives had been less than pure. Motives which had led MJ to use the Rat Patrol to further her own ends, to murder LeFeurve, and to work for the Germans and the Allies. And in addition, it had almost led her to endanger innocent lives through a faulty iteration of the vaccine.

God only knew, thought Moffitt, what else Dr. MJ Knight had had up her sleeve or in her past. And he supposed that he would never know, though he had a hard time accepting that.

What he did know was that the entire situation amounted to a string of lessons learned for him. For once, Moffitt knew, he would not be sharing his knowledge with the others.

"Sarge?''

Moffitt looked up. Despite his dark thoughts, the smile that he gave his visitor was genuine. "Tully! It's absolutely fantastic to see you!''

Tully nodded, standing shyly in the tent opening.

Moffitt sat up straighter. ''Come in and take a seat. ''

Tully came over to sit in the chair that Troy had vacated. "Awful quiet without you around, you know.''

If anyone but Tully had made the statement, Moffitt would have thought that it was a thinly veiled jab at his tendency to ramble on more than was sometimes needed. Instead, coming from Tully, it was simply just the truth.

That made Moffitt smile again. "It's good to be missed. Whatever the reason.''

"Yeah.'' Tully settled back and looked at Moffitt, willing to acknowledge head on what Troy had been reluctant to mention. "I'm real sorry about Dr. Knight."

"Damned shame,'' Moffitt said, repeating Troy's earlier sentiment because he found that he had no words of his own that could describe everything that had occurred.

"Yep.''

Moffitt let out a deep breath.

Tully raised an eyebrow.

Leaning back against his pillow, Moffitt thought of again of everything that had happened and what he knew that the others did not. "I should have never have trusted her, Tully. All the signs were there. But I chose not to see them until it was almost too late.''

"The way I see it, trusting her was the only thing that you could do. Just like trusting you was the only thing that we could all do.''

Once again, if it hadn't been Tully, Moffitt might have questioned the true meaning behind the statement. But as it was Tully, Moffitt merely nodded.

Silence fell. Tully sucked on a matchstick and Moffitt brooded.

"You okay?'' Tully asked, finally.

"Yes, I think so. I will be, at least. This particular situation has left me with more than a few regrets, I'm afraid.''

Tully nodded. ''It's hard when folks that you know die.''

"You're right, Tully,'' Moffitt acknowledged, though MJ's death was certainly not his only regret. "And I think that it's worse when you find, that in the end, you really didn't know anything at all.''

"Huh?'' Tully looked at Moffitt with interest. "You still talking about Dr. Knight?''

"So many things were not as we thought, Tully. Not about any of this. Certainly not about MJ Knight. And I can't help to think that there was even more to it. And now, we'll never know.''

Tully raised his hand, stopping any further elaboration from Moffitt. "Not much use to dwell on that now. You don't always need to know everything. There's no harm in remembering things, or folks, to be a little bit better than they might actually have been, is there?''

Moffitt was dumbfounded for a moment at Tully's simple wisdom. "I hope Tully, that one day, someone finds me worthy of that same courtesy.''

Tully examined his matchstick and then met Moffitt's eyes. "I don't think that you're going to have to worry about that at all.''


	15. Epilogue: The Unanswered Question

Perhaps, thought Dietrich, the worst thing about having been ill was the mountain of paperwork that had accumulated since he had been gone.

By order of the physician who had released him to light duty, under bitter protest from Dietrich, he was bound to his desk for at least a few more days. The only comfort that Dietrich found in that was that Troy had likely received the same order from his own medical personnel.

"Herr Hauptmann?''

With gratitude, Dietrich looked up at the entrance of his tent. Any visitor who could save him from being engulfed in a mass of forms was welcome. Dietrich, seeing who the visitor was, rose and saluted.

"Herr Oberstartz Rasmussen! Good afternoon, sir.''

"Good afternoon, Dietrich.'' Rasmussen frowned. "Should you not be resting?''

Dietrich shrugged. "I am likely to bore myself to sleep with these.'' He gestured the pile of papers on his desk.

Rasmussen laughed. "Understood. Do you have a moment for me?''

"Certainly, Herr Oberstartz,'' Dietrich gestured to the other chair in the tent, "please have a seat, sir.''

Rasmussen nodded and gently lowered himself in the chair. His tapped his cane thoughtfully a few times before letting it rest against his knee. "You look well enough, Dietrich.''

"I feel well enough. I apparently had a much milder case of the illness than the others did.'' Dietrich looked longingly at the packet of cigarettes that sat on the corner of his desk. "Though I am not quite able to do everything yet that I was able to do before. At least not without some difficulty.''

Rasmussen followed Dietrich's eye. "Yes, well, perhaps that's for the best. The Fuhrer would definitely agree with that, at any rate.'' He laughed again. "You know how he feels about Germans smoking.''

Dietrich shrugged. "Africa is a long way from Germany.''

''Indeed. I will be going back to Germany later today. But before I left, I wanted to stop by to thank you, Dietrich.''

"For what, sir?''

"For your assistance.''

Dietrich thought of exactly what his role in the mission had been.

His men had picked up Dr. Knight and the Rat Patrol on the way to their target all under the guise of allowing Dr. Knight and the others to take him prisoner, guaranteeing her credibility to Troy. That part of it had worked exceedingly well. As had Dr. Knight's enlistment of the Rat Patrol's ingenuity to blow up the Free French research facility and to capture Dr. LeFeurve.

What had not worked so well was Dietrich's plan to intercept them in the desert as they were leaving the town with LeFeurve. Dietrich knew that he could hardly blame himself for the actions of the crazy Frenchman. However, he did, whenever he went to visit Bader who was still in the infirmary.

Dietrich sighed. "I am not sure that you should be thanking me for anything, Herr Oberstartz. It hardly went as planned. However, when involving the Rat Patrol, very few things go as one would wish.''

"From the accounts that we hear, that is becoming the story of your career, Dietrich. Nevertheless, they've been the end of the career of several others, and their lives. Perhaps you should count yourself lucky.'' Rasmussen leveled a gaze at Dietrich. "Or, perhaps not. That is what led to your involvement in this to begin with.''

Dietrich found that he could not meet Rasmussen's eyes. Instead, he cleared his throat. "I suppose that we should all be thankful that all has ended as well as could be hoped.''

"Yes, it could have ended far worse. I do have you to thank for that.''

"Really?''

"I must say, I find it very impressive, Dietrich, that at the height of your illness that you were able to contact someone to get the message to me that the vaccine was dangerous. It could not have been easy.'' Rasmussen continued to look at Dietrich.

Debating for a moment whether he should tell the truth or whether he should keep his mouth shut, Dietrich finally sighed. "That was not me, Herr Oberstartz.''

"No? But the man who relayed the news to me said that person that notified him was German. While he did not know who it was, it could have only have been you, surely?''

Despite himself, Dietrich smiled. Perhaps Sergeant Moffitt's German was not as horrible as Dietrich believed it to be.

"I suppose that we will just have to consider that an unsolved mystery, then." There was a smile tugging at the corners of Rasmussen's lips.

"If you would, sir, that would be most appreciated.''

"It is indeed amazing how many of those crop up when your friends the Rat Patrol are involved.'' Rasmussen cocked an eyebrow at Dietrich.

Dietrich made a face in answer to the doctor identifying Troy and the others as his ''friends.'' But then, keeping him and Bader alive was hardly what one would expect from one's enemies.

"Yes, very well. However, whomever the source of it, the information received was completely correct.'' Rasmussen settled back into the chair. "And how that source knew to get it back to me, I also shall not question.''

"Yes, sir. That too would be appreciated.''

"Only one question remains for me. It is a shame that Dr. Knight is dead, because likely she may be the only one that would have shared the answer with me.''

"And that is?''

"I am uncertain that if her planting the tainted vaccine was an accident."

Dietrich recalled clearly the conversation between Moffitt and Dr. Somme. "From what I overheard, it was accidental. She did not know the effects that it could cause until the Frenchman Somme told her.''

"Knowing her as I do, I find that hard to believe, Dietrich.''

"Perhaps. But after all, it was through her admission that allowed for the information to be relayed to you.''

"Perhaps her guilt got the best of her on her deathbed.'' Rasmussen rubbed his forehead. "It is always hard to predict or fully understand the actions of those whose motivations are only for their own personal gains.''

Dietrich did not bother to hide his surprise. "You were aware of that?''

"Of course, it is not uncommon behavior for Dr. Knight. The only allegiance that she typically recognizes is to herself. However, many are more than willing to give her their support. On both sides.''

"I see.'' Dietrich knew that he had fallen into Dr. Knight's trap. The only consolation was that Troy and his men had also willingly followed the woman down the same path to hell.

"The Allies had requested that she bring them a sample of the virus, so that they may analyze it to find a vaccine. We had requested that she create a vaccine and deliver it to us so that our leaders and our soldiers could receive it. Both sides had requested that LeFeurve and his work be neutralized. Using one tool to accomplish all jobs made sense.''

As always, it amazed Dietrich that despite the foundation of the war, both sides really nearly always wanted the same thing. "There was an alliance?'' Dietrich asked in disbelief. It was information that no one had seen fit to share with him.

Rasmussen laughed. "While the alliance was not recognized by the Allies, it was effectively created in utilizing Dr. Knight. As I said, her interests lie in adventure and personal gain, while them with the least possible of effort.'' Rasmussen suddenly frowned. "Or at least, those were her interests.''

Dietrich nodded.

"Her death was unfortunate. Dr. Knight was an interesting and capable young woman. Attractive, as well.''

Dietrich's response was truthful and quick. "There is indeed no arguing that.''

Rasmussen looked thoughtful. "I had known her when she was a University student, actually. I taught many of her classes when I lived in the United States. We had a good relationship. I taught her how to speak German, actually, while working together in the lab. She has an excellent ear for languages."

"Yes, her German was very good.'' Still not as good as his, Dietrich thought, but still better than that of Troy's pet English rat.

"I'll take that as a compliment. Though, Dr. Knight was not then who she is now."

"I am sorry, sir, I am not sure that I am following what you are saying?''

"Dr. MJ Knight actually did not exist then, Herr Hauptmann. Nor, technically, did she exist when you met her.''

Dietrich frowned. The woman had looked real enough to him.

Rasmussen noticed Dietrich's confusion. He waved his hand. "Oh, that's not what I mean, Dietrich. My apologies for being so enigmatic. MJ Knight is not actually the woman's name. And she is not really a doctor.''

Even after it sank in, Dietrich found that the explanation had not helped him much. "I am afraid that I still do not understand, Herr Oberstartz?"

"MJ Knight, when I met her, was known as Mary Sue Jones. She was a bright student with so much potential! Outstanding really, the one in a thousand for which every professor hopes. Except for one flaw.''

Despite himself, Dietrich was very interested in the story of Dr. Knight. "And what was that, Herr Oberstartz?''

"Mary Sue was lazy. She had had never had to work hard at anything in her short life and she had been handed all of her wants and needs. You know how the Americans coddle their children and she was no exception.''

"That could indeed be a flaw.''

"It led to the fact that she never quite completed the training necessary to be a doctor. However, it seems that her practical knowledge and her successes in her own research, not to mention a talent for taking the work of others, made that little more than a formality.''

"I see.'' Dietrich remembered a day that seemed long ago when Dr. LeFeurve had accused Dr. Knight of being a fraud and stealing the work of others routinely, including LeFeurve's. "And the name change? A creation of her own?''

"Ah, well, not quite. The surname was her married name. I imagine that her initials were representing her given first name and her maiden name.''

"It is indeed a more romantic choice."

"And she was indeed a romantic, or at least she was. The woman abandoned her studies to marry a man. A European, I believe.'' Rasmussen nodded as his memory produced the information. "Yes, that's right, an Englander blessed with a title, a soft upbringing, and an even softer head.''

"He was not the only man that she charmed to get what she wanted," Dietrich said, finally. Dietrich remembered thinking that Moffitt had had some sort of connection to Dr. Knight that was not born out of their official partnership. In Dietrich's opinion, it had made the man blind to things he would have expected him to see. He had put it down to Dr. Knight being a woman, but perhaps, Dr. Knight's former husband was not the only Englander whom had fallen victim to her.

"No, certainly not the first or last man, regardless of nationality. This man offered her an easier path in life, one which her charm and her pretty face allowed her to take. A fairy tale ending. I believe that all young American girls expect those for themselves."

"I think that all little girls expect those for themselves." Dietrich remembered his little sister dreaming with her friends about finding their prince. Instead of making him happy, the memory made him sad. "The war may have changed that considerably, though.''

"Exactly. Finding herself in Europe, with all of the opportunities that a war creates, Dr. Knight decided to take a different path than one of hausfrau. Though, apparently not before robbing her husband blind.'' Rasmussen chuckled. "She was a clever girl, Dietrich, who grew up to be a dangerous woman.''

It was difficult for Dietrich to imagine the woman that he had known as Dr. Knight sitting at home, cooking dinner for a husband while she held a child on her hip. It was not hard for him to imagine that she had run away from such a situation, while at the same time relieving her prior husband of his fortune.

"When I first ran across her at the start of the war, I found it hard to believe that it was little Mary Sue Johnson for all of those years ago. Dr. Knight had built almost a legendary following among some, Dietrich.''

"A legend that was based on a series of lies, apparently.'' Most legends, in Dietrich's experience, were born of the same.

"It was not lost on Dr. Knight that I had the knowledge to share with the world that she was not quite what she seemed. As a result, she supported the Reich as requested.''

"You were black mailing her?'' Dietrich asked. He was not sure if he was surprised or not. Dietrich decided that he was not.

Rasmussen shrugged. "Call it what you will. I would say that it was a certain leverage that was available to us when we were in need of her services. It was an opportunity of her own making of which I was all too glad to take advantage.''

"It sounds as though it was indeed a tangled web that Dr. Knight had woven.''

"It is the risk that one runs when one creates a characterization of oneself that is over-idealized. I think that Freud may have had a name for it, if one believes the man's dreck.''

"I see.'' Dietrich considered what Rasmussen had shared. It was a lesson that needed to be learned by many, he could agree.

Thoughtfully, Rasmussen tapped his cane on the edge of Dietrich's desk. "You know, while you have confirmed that Dr. Knight did know that the vaccine was dangerous, by her own admission, I still wonder if I was truly an accident.''

"I know that I heard, Herr Oberstartz. And after all, that vaccine killed Dr. Knight. That certainly was not intentional. Besides, one of the objectives of her mission with the Rat Patrol was destroy LeFeurve before he could set the virus loose against us. In the end, her actions would have amounted to the same.'' Though the memory was hazy, Dietrich had no problem remembering how LeFeurve had died and by whose hand. "What would she have had to gain?''

Rasmussen gave Dietrich a thin smile. "The safety of her identity. Her freedom. Her particular brand of medical ethics, which is subjective at best. Ridding the world of me would have achieved for her all of those things.''

It took a moment, but Dietrich got it. "You think that she was hoping that you would test the vaccine on yourself or on some of your men? And that as result, you would have contracted the virus?''

"We would have tested it, yes, but we have other means than testing it on ourselves. So, if that is what she was hoping, she would have been disappointed in the end. And likely, dead, even if the virus had not killed her.'' Rasmussen's eyes narrowed.

The implied threat of retribution was not lost on Dietrich.

"But, I suppose we shall never know where here intentions were. It is, as I said, my one unanswered question,'' said Rasmussen.

"It seems harsh that she would want you dead, for whatever the reason. Especially when it could endanger the lives of others,'' Dietrich mused.

"I'm not sure that others mattered to her. She detested the fact that I held her reputation in my hands and professionally, she considered my research methods to be those of a monster. By her thinking, she likely thought that she was ridding the world with one evil in exchange for another."

Dietrich could understand why MJ Knight would have wanted to rid herself of Rasmussen if he was blackmailing her. It did leave him wondering what she did not like about the way that the man conducted his research.

"Well, my boy, I must be going. My thanks to you. Again, my apologies that both you and your leutnant. I am glad that you both are not going to suffer any lasting ill effects from it. All is truly well that ends well.''

Dietrich thought about it. "Yes, that is true. However, is it really ending well?''

Rasmussen pulled himself upright. He stood leaning on his cane and looking at Dietrich. "Is something troubling you, Dietrich?''

"Yes,'' Dietrich said honestly, as he also rose. "With everything that happened, and while Dr. LeFeurve and his work were destroyed, we still do not have an effective vaccine for a virus, which I will assure you, is quite deadly.''

His mind went back to what Dr. Knight had looked like when they had removed her body from the infirmary. Dietrich could barely repress a shudder. It was little wonder that Sergeant Moffitt had gone momentarily mad after faced with watching Dr. Knight's death. The corpse had been as gruesome as anything that he had seen on the battlefield.

"Oh, do not concern yourself with that. We have the vaccine that Dr. Knight did create,'' Rasmussen said.

"You did not destroy it?'' Dietrich could not hide his surprise.

Rasmussen smiled. "Why would we do that, Dietrich? It will allow us the opportunity to study the virus and to learn Dr. Knight's mistakes. We also have your information on a treatment for the disease. All is certainly not lost.''

Dietrich could see the logic. Reverse engineering a flawed vaccine may allow in the creation of a new one that worked.

Rasmussen continued. "You see, we can now infect a whole controlled population and monitor the effects of the disease, find a working vaccine, and experiment with potential cures like the one that you and your man received. The virus is very similar to its parent and many others of its type. The research performed will be very beneficial to the Reich.''

"Herr Oberstartz?'' Dietrich was uncertain that he had heard the man correctly. "How will you do that?''

Rasmussen laughed. "There is another world outside of the desert which you do not see, Dietrich. Your world is relatively sheltered. Let's just say that there is a whole captive group that can help us to determine these things. It is the first useful thing that they have done for the Fatherland in their miserable existence."

Dietrich hardly felt as though his life was anything close to sheltered as he sweated and bled under the hot desert sun.

Perhaps, though, it had been. "But . . . Surely you are not serious, Herr Oberstartz?''

"Of course I am. It is how I conduct my research. It is very effective, actually. Even a sub-human population offers better results in testing than rats or dogs.'' With that, Rasmussen saluted. "Heil Hitler!''

Dietrich met the party salute with the standard Wehrmacht salute. Slowly, his arm dropped as he watched as the man limp out of the tent. Dietrich sank back down into his chair, feeling suddenly unwell again.

However, Dietrich's current discomfort was not related to his own recent illness. Instead, it had been caused by his exposure to the sickness that seemed to be spreading though his country, first among the leaders, and then to the common people.

And if a cure or prevention were to be found for any disease, Dietrich prayed that it would be for that.


End file.
